Romance At Work
by ThePandoraStories
Summary: Ms Gabriella Montez would do anything to ensnare the Mr Troy Bolton. Her goal is to ruin his reputation and cause scandal that would be the talk of all London. She gains his trust and lives in his house. Every night, she tempts him with her eyes and body that the hours before dawn can be spent in unbridled pleasure instead of restless sleep. Will the rationale man fall for her?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! This is my first fan fiction and I'm really excited! So this would be a Troyella story that takes place in London, therefore the clothings, customs, royalty and stuff are different from our normal life, hope you guys understand! ^.^ I hope that you guys would enjoy reading my story and reviews are more than welcome! First of all, Disney owns the characters, and besides the plot plus some other characters that I have created, nothing is mine. The plot is inspired by something that I have read recently. Pardon me if there are any grammar errors, and the characters might be a little different from how they are in the movies. After all, this is fanfic right? :D right so let's get down to this story.**

* * *

><p>It had been too long since he had bedded a woman.<p>

Mr Troy Bolton could think of no other explanation for his reaction to Gabriella Montez… a response so powerful that he was forced to sit behind his desk to conceal a sudden, uncontrollable erection. Perplexed, he stared intently at the woman, wondering why her mere presence was enough to ignite such raging heat inside him. No one ever caught him off guard this way.

She was undeniably lovely, with her luscious milk chocolate locks and brown eyes, but she possessed a quality that surpasses physical beauty: a hint of passion contained beneath the frail gravity of her façade. Like any man, Troy was aroused more by what was concealed than by what was revealed. And clearly, Gabriella Montez was a woman of many secrets.

Silently, he strove to conceal his sexual awareness of her, focusing on the scarred mahogany surface of his desk until the flare of heat subsided. When he was finally able to meet her unfathomable gaze, he remained quiet, having learned long ago that silence was a powerful instrument. People were uncomfortable with silence – they usually sought to fill it, revealing much in the process.

However, Gabriella did not erupt in nervous chatter as so many women did. She stared at him warily and did not speak. Obviously, she was prepared to outwait him.

"Miss Montez," he finally said, "my clerk informs me that you would not disclose the reason for your visit."

"If I had told him why, I would not have been allowed past the threshold. You see, I have come about the position you advertised."

Troy was seldom surprised by anything, having seen and experienced far too much in the course of his work. However, the notion that she would want to work _here_, for him, was no less than astonishing. Apparently, she had no idea of what the job entailed. "I require an assistant, Miss Montez, someone who will act as a part-time clerk and records-keeper. Bow Street is not the place for a woman."

"The advertisement did not specify that your assistant had to be male," she pointed out. "I can read, write, manage household expenditures, and keep account books. Why shouldn't I be considered for the job?"

A hint of challenge had coloured her deferential tone. Fascinated and vaguely unsettled, Troy wondered if they had ever met before. No – he would have remembered her. And yet there was something oddly familiar about her.

"What is your age?" he asked abruptly. "21? 22?"

"I am 26, sir"

"Really?" He did not believe her. She appeared far too young.

"Yes really." Seeming amused, she moved to lean over his desk, placing her hands before him. "You see? One can always tell a woman's age by her hands."

Troy studied the hands that had been proffered without vanity. They were not the hands of a girl, but of a capable woman – one who had known hard work. Although her nails were scrupulously clean, they were filed almost to the quick. Her fingers were marked with thin white scars that had come from accidental cuts and scrapes, and with a crescent-shaped burn that must have come from bake-pan or pot.

Gabriella resumed her seat, the light sliding gently over her rich brown hair. "You don't look the way I expected, either," she informed him.

Troy arched a brow in sardonic inquiry. "Oh?"

"I thought you would be a portly old gentleman with a wig and a pipe."

That drew a brief laugh from him, low and scratchy, and he realized that it had been a long time since he had made such a sound. For some reason, he could not help asking, "Are you disappointed to find otherwise?"

"No," she said, sounding a bit breathless. "No, I am not disappointed."

The temperature in the office rose to a blistering degree. Troy could not help wondering if she found him attractive. He would soon be 30. Years of relentless work and little sleep had left their mark, and the reckless pace of his life had left him rawboned. He did not have the settled, pampered look that many men his age possessed.

Of course, they did not prowl the streets at night as he did, investigating murders and robberies, visiting prisons, and putting down riots.

He saw the assessing way Gabriella glanced around his office, which had been furnished Spartan style. One wall was covered with maps, the other fitted with book-shelves. Only one picture adorned the room, a landscape during times of calamity or tension, finding that the cool, quiet darkness of the painting never failed to soothe him.

Brusquely, he resumed the interview. "Have you brought references, Miss Montez?"

She shook her head. "I am afraid that my former employer will not recommend me."

"Why not?'

Finally, her composure was disrupted, a wash of color spreading over her face. "For many years I have worked for a distant cousin. She allowed to me reside in her household after my parents died. In return for her kindness, I served as a maid-of-all-work. I believe that she was pleased with my efforts. Until…" Words seem to clot in her throat, and sudden perspiration lent her skin a pearly shimmer.

Troy had heard every possible tale of disaster, evil, and human misery during his years as Chief Magistrate at Bow Street. Although he was not callous by any means, he had learnt to put a certain emotional distance between himself and those who came to plea before him. But the sight of Gabriella's anxiety filled him with the insane urge to comfort her, to pick her up and soothe her. _Holy hell_, he thought in grim surprise, struggling to master the unwanted surge of protectiveness.

"Go on, Miss Montez," he said curtly.

She nodded and took a deep breath. "I did something very wrong. I-I took a lover. I never had one before… but he was so, so charming. I had never been courted anyone like him. I fell in love with him and we – "She stopped and averted her gaze, apparently unable to look at Troy any longer. "He promised to marry me, and I was foolish enough to believe him. When he got tired of me, he abandoned me without a second thought. Of course, I realize now that it was ridiculous to think that a man of his status might have taken me as a wife."

"He was an aristocrat?" Troy asked.

She studied the shapes of her knees through the drape of her skirts. "Not precisely. He was – is – the only son, along with his sister, of a noble family."

"His name?"

"I would prefer not to reveal it, sir. It is all in the past now. Suffice it to say that my cousin learned of this affair I had with her brother, who also let it be known to me that he was married. Needless to say, there was a scandal, and I was told to leave." Gabriella smoothed her gown in a nervous gesture, her palms running over the fabric that covered her lap. "I know that this is evidence of an immoral character. But I promise you that I am not easily given to… to dalliances. If you could manage to overlook my past – "

"Miss Montez." Troy waited until she could bring herself to look at him once more. "I would be a hypocrite if I condemned you for the affair. We have all made mistakes."

"Not you, surely"

That elicited a wry smile from him. "Especially me"

Her chocolate brown eyes were alert. "What kind of mistakes?"

The question amused him. He liked her fearlessness, as well as the layer of vulnerability beneath. "None that you need to know about, Miss Montez"

She smiled slowly. "Then I remain skeptical as to you having made any."

It was the kind of smile a woman might wear in the sultry aftermath of lovemaking. Very few women possessed such effortless sensuality, a natural warmth that made a man feel like a prize stallion on a stud farm. Dumbfounded, Troy concentrated on the surface of his desk. Unfortunately, that did nothing to dispel the lurid images that had flooded his brain. He wanted to reach across the desk and pull her on top of the slick mahogany and strip her naked. He wanted to kiss her breasts, stomach, thighs… to part the curls between her legs and bury his face in the tender salt-scented folds, and lick and suckle until she scram in ecstasy. When he had made her ready for him, he would unfasten his trousers and drive himself deep inside her, to thrust until his raging desire was satisfied. And then…

Infuriated by his lack of self-control, Troy drummed his fingers on the desk. He struggled to remember the thread of the conversation. "Before we discuss my past," he said, "we had better attend to yours. Tell me, did a child result from this liaison?"

"No, sir"

"That is fortunate," he said.

"Yes, sir"

"Is London your birthplace?"

"No, sir. I was born, along with my younger brother, in a little town. We… "Gabriella paused, a shadow passing over her expression, and Troy sensed that the past held many painful memories for her. "We were orphaned when our parents drowned in a boating accident. I was not yet 13. My father was a viscount, but we had little land, and no funds to support it. There were no relatives able or willing to care for two virtually impoverished children. A few people in the village took turns looking after my brother and me, but I'm afraid…" She hesitated and spoke more cautiously. "My brother, John, and I were quite wild. We ran about the village committing acts of mischief until we were caught in a bit of thievery at the local bakeshop. It was then that I went to live with my cousin, Sharpay."

"What became of your brother?"

She responded with a distant stare, her manner turning wooden. "He is dead now. The title is extinct, and the family lands are being held in abeyance, as there is no eligible male to inherit."

Being no stranger to grieve, Troy was sensitive to it in others. He understood at once that whatever had happened to her brother, it had left a deep scar on her soul. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She was rigid, seeming not to hear him.

Troy considered her closely. "Miss Montez, I could not in good conscience hire a woman as my assistant. Among other things, you would be required to list the occupants of the prisoners' van bearing criminals to and from Newgate, compile reports of the Bow Street runners, and take depositions from the assortment of foul characters who parade daily through this building. Such tasks would be offensive to a woman's sensibilities."

"I wouldn't mind," she said with equanimity. "As I have already explained, I am neither sheltered nor innocent. I am not young, nor do I have a reputation or social standing to preserve. Many woman work in hospitals, prisons, and charity wards, and they encounter all kinds if desperate and lawless people. I will survive just as they have."

"You cannot be my assistant," Troy said firmly. He raised a hand in a silencing gesture as she tried to interrupt. "However, my former housekeeper has just retired, and I would be willing to hire you as her replacement. That would be a far more suitable employment for you.

"I could take a hand in certain household matters," she conceded. "In addition to working as you assistant."

"You propose to do both?" In a gently sardonic tone, he asked, "Don't you think that might be too much work for one person to handle?"

"People say that you do the work of six men," she shot back. "If that is true, I could certainly manage to do the work of two."

"I am not offering you two positions. I am offering you only one – that of a housekeeper."

Strangely, his authoritative statement made her smile. There was no mistaking the challenge in her eyes, but it was a friendly provocation, as if she knew somehow that he was not about to let her walk away. "No thank you," she said, "I'll have what I want or nothing at all."

Troy's face hardened into the expression that cowed even the most seasoned Bow Street runners. "Miss Montez, it is clear you don't understand the dangers that you would be exposed to. An attractive woman has no business mingling with criminals whose behaviour ranges from mischief-making to depravities I could not even begin to describe."

She seemed unruffled at the prospect. "I would be surrounded by more than a hundred law enforcement officers, including constables, horse patrols, and half-dozen or so Bow Street runner. I daresay I would be safer working here than I would be shopping at Regent Street."

"Miss Montez – "

"Mr Bolton," she interrupted, standing and bracing her hands on his desk. Her high-necked dress revealed nothing as she leaned toward him. However, if she had been wearing a low décolletage, her breasts would have been presented to him like two succulent apples on a tray. Stimulated unbearably by the thought, Troy forced himself to focus on her face. Her lips curled into a faint smile. "You have nothing to lose by letting me try," she pointed out. "Give me a month to prove my worth."

Troy stared at her intently. There was something manufactured about her display of charm. She was trying to manipulate him into giving her something she wanted – and she was succeeding. But why in God's name did she want to work for him? He realized suddenly that he could not let her go without discovering her motives.

"If I fail to please you," she added. "you can always hire someone else."

Troy was known for being a supremely rational man. It would be impractical for him to hire this woman. Stupid, even. He knew exactly what the others at Bow Street would make of it. They would assume that he had hired her because of her sexual appeal. The uncomfortable truth was, they would be right. It had been a long time since he had been so strongly attracted to a woman. He wanted to keep her here, to enjoy her beauty and intelligence, and to discover if she returned his interest. His mind weighed the scruples of such a decision, but his thoughts were eclipsed by male urges that refused to be quelled.

And for the first time in his magisterial career, Troy ignored reason in favour of desire.

* * *

><p><strong>Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ and if you can spare the time, please follow my account iheartconfessionss ! Thanks for reading once again!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A\N: Thank you for the favs, follow and review. Really meant a lot to me :D**** special thanks to cbreew for reviewing! Rushed out this chapter for you and hope you like it! Not much actually, just a filler chapter to tell you more about Gabriella. The beginning chapters will be a little dry, but the later chapters, that is when the romance comes in so stay tuned! :D I have edited this chapter for the errors that you guys have pointed out so… yeap! To cbreew: Great to hear that you are enjoying it! And so sorry for the blunder! Have edited it ^^ To Ale X. Sha: This is set in London during the Bow Street era. Bow Street is the police headquarters in London and now Troy is the chief magistrate while Gabriella is the assistant. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

><p><em>And for the first time in his magisterial career, he ignored reason in favour of desire.<em>

Scowling, he picked up a haphazard pile of papers and handed them to her. Cautiously she accepted the ungainly stack and scanned the top few notes. "These notes must be compiled and copied every week," Troy said tersely. "It's tedious, and I have far more pressing matters to attend to. From now on, that will be one of your responsibilities." He pointed to a small table in the corner, every available inch of its scarred surface covered with books, files and correspondence. "You may work there. You'll have to share my office, as there is no room for you elsewhere. As things stand, I'm away on investigations much of the time.

"You will hire me then," she said, her voice rich with satisfaction. "Thank you, Mr Bolton."

He slanted an ironic glance. "If I have that you are not suited for the position, you will accept my decision without protest.

"Yes, sir."

"One more thing. You will not be required to go to the prisoners' van each morning. Jason will do it."

"But you said that it was part of your assistant's responsibilities, and I – "

"Are you arguing with me, Miss Montez?"

"She closed her mouth abruptly. "No, Mr Bolton."

"He gave her a brief nod. "The notes must be finished by two o'clock. After you are done, find a dark haired lad named Jason. Tell him where your possessions are – he will fetch them for you."

"There is no need to make him gather my things," Gabriella protested. "I will go to the lodging house by myself at a more convenient time."

"You are not to walk anywhere in London alone. From now on, you are under my protection. If you wish to go somewhere, you will be accompanied by Jason or one of the runners."

She didn't like that – he saw the resentful flicker in her eyes. But she did not argue. Troy continued in a businesslike manner. "You'll have the rest of the day to make yourself familiar with the public office and private residence. Later I will introduce you to my colleagues as they appear for their court sessions."

"Will I also be introduced to the Bow Street runners?"

"I doubt you will be able to avoid them for long," Troy said dryly. The thought of the runners' reaction to his female assistance caused his mouth to tighten. He wondered if that was Gabriella's motive for working here. Woman all over England had made the runners objects of romantic fantasy. Their imaginations were fueled by the ha'penny novels that portrayed the runners as heroic men of action. It was possible that Gabriella wished to attract one of them. If so, she would not have to work hard. The runners were a randy lot, and all but one were unmarried.

"By the way, I do not condone any romantic involvements at Bow Street," Troy said. "The runners, the constables, and the clerks are all unavailable to you. Naturally, I will offer no objections if you wish to carry on with someone _outside_ the public office."

"What about you?" she startled him by asking softly. "Are you unavailable as well?"

Perplexed, hungering, Troy wondered what kind of game she was trying to play. He kept his expression blank as he replied, "Naturally."

She smiled slightly as she went to the small, over-laden table.

* * *

><p>In less than an hour, Gabriella had efficiently arranged and copied the notes in a neat hand that would delight the printer to no end. She was so quiet and economical in her movements that Troy would have forgotten she was there, except that her scent filtered through the air. It was a tantalizing distraction that he could not dismiss. Breathing deeply, he tried to identify the fragrance. He detected tea and vanilla, blended with the elixir of warm female skin. Stealing glances at her delicate profile, he was fascinated by the way the light moved over her hair. She had small ears, a sharply defined chin, a soft snippet of a nose, and eyelashes that cast spiky shadows on her cheeks.<p>

Absorbed in her task, Gabriella bent over a page and wrote carefully. Troy could not help imagine how those adept hands might feel on his body, if they would be warm or cool. Would she touch a man with hesitancy or boldness? Her exterior was delicate, subdued, but there were hints of something provocative beneath… an intimation that she could be unmoored by sexuality, if only a man could reach deep enough inside her.

The conjecture caused Troy's blood to stir faster. He damned himself for being so drawn to her. The force of his unspent passion seemed to fill the room. How strange that the past months, years, of celibacy had been so tolerable until now. Suddenly, it had become unbearable, his accumulated hunger for a woman's soft flesh, his need for a tender sheath clamped around his cock, a sweet, responsive mouth returning his kisses…

Just as his desire reached an excruciating pitch, Gabriella approached his desk with the copies. "Is this how you like it to be done?" she asked.

He scanned them quickly, hardly seeing the neat lines of script. With a cursory nod, he handed them back to her.

"I'll give them to Jason, then," she said, her gown rustling softly as she left. The door closed with a quiet click, affording him some much-needed privacy. Releasing an explosive breath, Troy went to the chair where Gabriella sat his gingers coasting over its back and arms. Driven by primal urges, he hunted for any trace of warmth her hands might have left on the wood. He breathed deeply, seeking to absorb a lingering hint of her fragrance.

Yes, he thought with purely masculine agitation, he had been celibate for too long.

Although he was often tormented by his physical needs, Troy had too much respect for women to hire a prostitute. He had become well acquainted with the profession from the perspective of the magisterial bench, and he would not take advantage of such a woman. Moreover, the transaction would be a mockery of what he had shared with his wife.

He had considered the idea of marrying again, but he had not found a woman who seemed remotely suitable. The wife of a police magistrate would have to be strong and independent. And she would have to fit easily into the social circles his family frequented, as well as the dark world of Bow Street, Most of all, she would have to be satisfied with his friendship, not his love. He would not allow himself to fall in love again, not as he had with Eleanor. The pain of losing her had been too great, and his heart had been ripped into half when she died.

He only wished that the need for sex could be dismissed as easily as the need for love.

* * *

><p>Gabriella quickly made herself familiar with the layout of her office as she searched for Jason. She located him and passed the notes to him for him to print.<p>

Relieved to find herself alone, Gabriella wandered into the dry larder. It was fitted with slate selves that held, among many other things, a round of cheese, a pot of butter, a jug of milk and cuts of meat. The little room was shadowy and dark, silent except for the steady drip of water in the adjoining wet larder. Suddenly overcome with the tension that had accumulated inside her all afternoon, Gabriella felt herself begin to tremble and shiver until her teeth chattered violently. Hot tears gushed from her eyes, and she pressed the length of her sleeve hard against the aching sockets.

_Dear God, how she hated him._

It had taken all her strength and will to sit in that cluttered office with Troy Bolton, appearing serene while her blood boiled with loathing. She had hidden her antipathy well; she thought she had even made him want her. His eyes had flickered with a reluctant attraction that he couldn't quite hide. That was good; it was what she had hoped for. Because she wanted to do something worse than kill Troy Bolton. She intended to ruin him in every way, to make him suffer until death would be preferable. And somehow fate seemed to be accommodating her plan.

From the moment Gabriella had seen the advertisement in the _Times_ that an assistant was wanted at the Bow Street public office, a plan had fully sprung into her mind. She would obtain the job at Bow Street and thereby gain access to records and files. Eventually she would find what she needed to destroy Troy Bolton's reputation and force him to resign.

There were rumours of corruption surrounding the runners and their activities – reports of illegal raids, brutality, and intimidation, not to mention acting outside their described jurisdictions. Everyone knew that Troy and his "people", as he termed them, were a law unto themselves. Once an already suspicions public was given solid proof of their misconduct, the paragon known as Mr Bolton would be ruined beyond redemption. Gabriella would uncover whatever information was necessary to bring about his downfall.

But that wasn't enough. She wanted the betrayal to be deeper, more painful than that. She was going to seduce the so-called Monk of Bow Street and make him fall in love with her. And then she would bring his world down around his ears.

The scalding tears abated, and Sophia turned to rest her forehead against a cool edge of slate, sighing shakily. One thought sustained her: Troy Bolton was going to pay for taking away the last person on earth who had loved her. Her brother, John, whose remains were buried in a mass grave, mingling with the rotting skeletons of thieves and murderers.

Regaining her self-control, Gabriella contemplated what she had learnt of Mr Bolton so far. He was not at all what she expected. She had thought he would be a pompous, heavyset man, jowly and vain and corrupt. She had not wanted him to be attractive.

But Troy Bolton _was_ handsome, much as she hated to admit it. He was a man in his prime, tall and lean. His features were strong and austere, with straight brown brows shadowing the most extraordinary pair of eyes she had ever seen. He had stunning cerulean eyes, so intense that it seemed as if the white-hot energy of the lightning and ocean had been trapped inside those striking azure gaze of his. He possessed a quality that had unnerved her, a tremendous volatility burning beneath his remote surface. And he wore his authority comfortably; a man who could make decisions and live with them no matter what the outcome.

Hearing the sounds of someone entering the kitchen from the door that led to the street above, Gabriella ventured from the larder. She saw a woman not much older than she, plump and dark-skinned. She was tidy and well-kept, her apron washed and pressed. The cook maid, Gabriella surmised.

"Hello," the woman said shyly, bobbing in a curtsy. "May I help you, miss?"

"I am Gabriella Montez, Mr Bolton's new assistant."

"Assistant," the woman repeated in confusion. "But you are not a man."

"No, indeed," Gabriella said evenly, surveying the spacious kitchen.

"I am the cook maid, Taylor," the woman offered, staring at her with wide eyes. "There is another maid, Martha, and an errand boy…"

"Jason? Yes, I've met him."

Daylight shone through the windows, revealing the luxurious kitchen filled with sparkling utensils. Gabriella could not help exclaiming in admiration. "Oh, it must be wonderful to cook in here!"

Taylor clapped her hands in joy. "Perhaps you can help me miss. I can manage plain cooking but that is all."

"It would be my pleasure, Taylor."

"We all eat in the kitchen – masters, servants, and constables alike," Taylor said.

Gabriella gazed at a shelf. She strove to sound detached as she asked, "Is Mr Bolton a good master?"

"Oh, yes, miss!" the cook-maid said at once. "However, he can be a bit odd at times. For example, he will work for days without a proper meal. Sometimes, he will even sleep at his desk rather than go to his own bed for a decent night's rest."

"Why does he work so hard?"

"No one knows the answer to that. Perhaps not even Mr Bolton himself. They say he was different after his wife passed on…"

"He became distant?" Gabriella suggested.

"Yes, distant and cold-natured. He tolerates no weakness in himself, and takes no interest in anything other than his duties."

"Perhaps he will marry again someday."

Taylor smiled and shrugged. "There are so many fine ladies who would have him! They come to his office to ask him to help with their charities, or to complain about pickpockets and such. But it's plain they hope to catch his eye. And the less interest he shows, the more they pursue him."

"Mr Bolton is sometimes called the Monk of Bow Street," Gabriella murmured. "Does that mean he never…" She paused as a blush climbed her cheeks.

"Only he knows for certain," Taylor said thoughtfully. "It would be a pity, wouldn't it? A waste of a good, healthy man." Her lips pulled into a smile, and she winked at Gabriella. "But I think someday the right woman will know how to tempt him, don't you?"

Yes, Gabriella thought with a swirl of satisfaction. She would be the one to end Troy Bolton's monkish ways. She would win his trust, perhaps even his love… and she would use it to destroy him.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ and if you can spare the time, please follow my account iheartconfessionss ! Thanks for reading once again!<strong>**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know its been a while since I posted a chapter but I'm kinda overwhelmed with the work here, hope you guys understand Anyways, here's a third chapter for you guys! Not really much again, just slightly more about Troy's line of work and showing how Gabriella is trying to make Troy fall for her ^^ kinda a short chapter but I'm really trying to rush out more chapters for you guys. I was up till 3 in the morning to get this done, its short that's why I don't really like it :/ oh and by the way, I've changed the other maid of Troy's to Martha instead of Kelsi! You'll see why in the later chapters! ^^ Without further ado, let's start!**

* * *

><p><em>Yes, Gabriella thought with a swirl of satisfaction. She would be the one to end Troy Bolton's monkish ways. She would win his trust, perhaps even his love… and she would use it to destroy him. <em>

As news travelled fast on Bow Street, Troy was unsurprised when a knock came on the door not a quarter hour after Gabriella had left. One of the assistant magistrates, Mr Chad Danforth, entered the office. "Good morning, Bolton," Chad said, his brown eyes alight with good humour. At a height of nearly 6 feet, Chad Danforth was the only man Troy had to physically look up to. Chad was a good man, steady and intelligent, and one of the few people in the world Troy trusted.

Pulling the visitor's chair up to the desk, Chad lowered his gigantic frame onto the leather seat. He gave Troy a speculative stare. "I caught a glimpse of Miss Montez," he remarked. "Jason told me that she is your new assistant. Naturally I replied that he must have been mistaken."

"Why?"

"Because hiring a woman for such a position would be impractical. Furthermore, enlisting a woman as comely as Miss Montez to work at Bow Street would be damned foolish. And since I have never known you to be impractical or foolish, I told Jason that he was wrong."

"He's right," Troy muttered.

Leaning to the side, Chad rested his chin in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger and contemplated the Chief Magistrate speculatively. "She's going to be a clerk and file-keeper? And take depositions from footpads and highwaymen and buttock-and-file whores and – "

"Yes," Troy snapped.

Chad's thick brows climbed halfway up his forehead. "To point out the obvious, every man who passes through this place – runners not excepted – is going to be on her like flies on a honey pot. She won't be able to get a damned thing done. Miss Montez is trouble, and you know it." He paused and remarked idly, "What interests me is why you chose to hire her anyway,"

"It's none of your business. Miss Montez is _my_ employee. I'll hire anyone I damn well want to, and the men had better leave her alone of answer to me."

Chad stared at him in an assessing way that Troy did not like. "My pardon," he said softly. "You seem rather touchy on the subject."

"I'm not touchy, dammit!"

Chad responded with a supremely annoying grin. "I believe this is the first time I've ever heard you swear, Bolton."

Too late, Troy understood the source of Chad's amusement. Somehow his normally emotionless façade had cracked. He fought to mask his irritation, drumming his fingers on the desk in an impatient staccato.

Chad watched his struggle with a lingering grin. Apparently, he could not resist making one more comment. "Well, there is one point that no one can dispute – she makes a prettier clerk than the previous one."

Troy pinned him with a forbidding stare. "Chad, the next time I advertise for an employee, I will make certain to hire some long-toothed old crone in the hopes of pleasing you. Now, may we turn the discussion to some other matter… perhaps even relating to work?"

"By all means," Chad said agreeably. "Actually, I came to give you the latest report on Nick Gentry."

Troy's eyes narrowed at the news. Of all criminals he desired to be caught, tried and hanged, Nick was easily the first on the list. He was the opposite of everything Troy sought to uphold.

Taking advantage of the law that gave rewards to any citizen who apprehended a highwayman, burglar or deserter, Nick and his men had established an office in London and set themselves up as professional thief-takers. When Nick caught a highwayman, he received not only a commission upon conviction, but also the highwayman's horse, weapons and money. If he recovered stolen goods, he not only charged a fee, he also took a percentage of the property's value. When Nick and his men could not gather enough evidence against a particular felon, they planted or manufactured some. They also seduced young boys into crime, purely for the purpose of arresting them later and collecting the bounties.

Nick was regarded with both admiration and fear in the underworld, where he was the undisputed king. His office had become the rendezvous for every criminal note. Nick was guilty of all kinds of corruption, including fraud, bribery, thievery, and even murder. Most maddening of all, the man was regarded by much of London as some sort of public benefactor. He cut a dashing figure in his fine clothes and small boys dreamed of growing up to be like him while women of high or low birth were excited by his intriguing appearance.

"I'd like to see that bastard dance in the wind," Troy muttered. "Tell me what you have."

After Chad told Troy everything he knew, Troy went very still, in the manner of a predator catching scent of its most desired prey. "Bring him in for questioning," he said. "And do it quickly."

Chad nodded. "I assume you want to question him yourself?"

Troy nodded. Ordinarily, he would have left such matters in Chad's capable hands, but not when Nick Gentry was involved. Nick was his personal adversary, and Troy had devoted a great deal of effort to bringing the wily thief-taker down.

"Very well sir." Chad stood up. "I'll have Nick taken into custody as soon as he is located. I'll dispatch the runners immediately." He paused, a wry smile softened the hard angles of his face. "That is, if they are not too busy ogling at your assistant."

Troy suppressed a biting remark with great difficulty, his normally controlled temper igniting at the idea of Gabriella Montez being harassed by his own men. "Do something for me, Chad," he said through tight lips. "Make it known that if any of my runners or any member of the foot or horse patrol bothers Miss Montez, they will regret it."

"Yes sir." Chad turned to leave, but not before Troy saw the hint of a smile on his lips.

"What is so bloody amusing?"

Chad replied in a bland tone. "I was merely reflecting, sir, that you may come to regret not hiring a long-toothed old crone."

* * *

><p>After having dinner, Gabriella unpacked her items in her new room in Troy's private residence. Her window faced Troy's office, allowing her to see whatever that he was doing. The lamplight highlighted the hard edge of his profile as he turned towards his bookshelves. It was late, and he should have retired for the evening.<p>

Gabriella changed into her nightgown and returned to the window, watching as Troy rubbed his face and bent diligently over his desk. She thought of all the things Taylor and Martha had told her about the Chief Magistrate. With the typical servants' love of gossip, they had provided a great deal of information.

It seemed that Troy's supporters, of which there are many, revered him for his compassion, whereas an equal number of critics denounced him for his sternness. He was the most powerful magistrate in England, even acting as an unofficial advisor to the government. He trained his runners with progressive new methods, applying scientific principles to law enforcement in a way that earned both admiration and mistrust from the public. The methods that Troy used did not make sense to her, but apparently Troy's techniques had untangled mysteries as intricate as the Gordian knot.

The servants held Troy in high regard, as did everyone else who worked at Bow Street. Gabriella came to the unsettling realization that the magistrate was not entirely the evil person she had considered him to be. It did not change her resolve to avenge John's death, however. In fact, strict adherence to principle was probably what had led to the tragedy that had claimed her brother's life. No doubt Troy lived by the letter of the law, putting principle above compassion, and legislation above mercy.

The thought caused Gabriella's anger to flare violently. Who was Troy Bolton, that he should decide who lived and who died? Why was he fit to sit in judgment upon others? Was he so infallible, so wise and perfect? He probably thought he was, that arrogant bastard.

But she was perplexed by the memory of his easy forgiveness that morning, when she had confessed her short-lived affair. Most people would have condemned her as a harlot and said that her dismissal was well-deserved. She had expected Troy to censure her. Instead, he seemed understanding and kind, and had even admitted that he himself had made mistakes.

Troubled, she nudged the frayed muslin curtain aside to gain a better view of his front office.

As if he could somehow feel Gabriella's gaze, Troy turned and glanced directly at her. Although there was no light or candle burning in her room, the moonlight was sufficient to illuminate her. He could see that she was only dressed in the fragile nightdress.

Being a gentleman, Troy should have turned away immediately. But he stared at her intently, as if he were a hungry wolf and she were a rabbit that had ventured too far from the warren. Though Gabriella's body burned with embarrassment, she lingered to give him a good look. Silently she counted the seconds: one... two... three. Then she moved aside slowly, drew the curtain shut, a d raised her palm to her flaming face. She should be pleased that he had shown an interest in what she looked like in her night clothes. Instead, she was profoundly uneasy, almost frightened - as if her plan to seduce and destroy him might somehow end in her own downfall.

* * *

><p><strong>Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ and if you can spare the time, please follow my account iheartconfessionss ! Thanks for reading once again!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I know it's been a while but I've been working on this chapter whenever I can and it's finally out! I just wanna state that in this story, all the pairings are all really really weird. To clear up, Troy's cookmaid is Taylor and the other housekeeper is Martha. Chad is married is an OC that I created (because I want Taylor to be one of Gabriella's friends haha). For this story, the only romance would be Troyella. There will not be any Chad and Taylor, Zeke and Sharpay, Ryan and Kelsi, Jason and Martha. ONLY Troyella! Please keep an open mind when reading my story because it might be different from your typical High School Musical fanfic, but stick with me and continue this story! It would be really awesome in the later chapters! :D So yep! Here's the next chapter, enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>She should be pleased that he had shown an interest in what she looked like in her night clothes. Instead, she was profoundly uneasy, almost frightened - as if her plan to seduce and destroy him might somehow end in her own downfall.<em>

Troy began the day as usual, performing his morning ablutions with economic speed and dressing in his usual attire of a dark coat and gray trousers. He tied his black silk tie in a simple knot, and brushed his hair until it settled neatly into place. Giving a cursory glance in the mirror behind the sink, he saw that the smudges beneath his eyes were more pronounced than usual. He had not slept well the previous night. He had been occupied with thoughts of Gabriella, his body teeming with the awareness that she was sleeping only a few rooms away.

It had been impossible to stop thinking about the moment when he had seen her at the window, her long hair streaming in ripples, her nightgown ghostly in the moonlight. Troy had been utterly seduced by the image, his blood coursing as he imagined what the female body beneath the gown might look like.

Scowling, Troy vowed that there would be no more nightly reveries concerning Gabriella. No more fantasies, and certainly no more gazing at her window. From now on it would be work as usual.

Grimly determined, he went down to the kitchen, where he intended to fetch his first jug of coffee and carry it to his office. When that was done, he would take his daily walk through Covent Garden* and the surrounding streets, much in the manner of a physician taking the pulse of a favourite patient. No matter how detailed the reports of the Bow Street runners were, there was nothing quite like seeing and hearing things for himself.

Troy took pleasure in the orderly progression of activities at Bow Street each day. Everything as it should be, he thought with satisfaction.

As Troy entered the kitchen, he saw Jason sitting at the scrubbed wooden table. The boy wolfed down a plate of breakfast as if it were the first decent meal he'd had in months. Gabriella stood at the range with Taylor, apparently showing her how to prepare breakfast. "Turn them like this," Gabriella was saying, expertly flipping a row of little cakes on a saucepan. The kitchen atmosphere was especially fragrant today, spiced with frying bacon, coffee and sizzling batter.

Gabriella looked fresh and wholesome, the trim curves of her figure outlined by a white apron that covered her charcoal-gray dress. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail with a blue ribbon. As she saw him standing in the doorway, a smile lit her milk chocolate eyes, and she was so dazzling pretty that Troy felt a painful jab low in his stomach.

"Good morning, Mr Bolton," she said. "Will you have some breakfast?"

"No, thank you," he replied automatically. "Only a jug of coffee. I never..." He paused as Taylor set a plate on the table. It was piled with steaming batter cakes sitting in a pool of blackberry sauce. He had a special fondness for blackberries.

"Just one or two?" Gabriella coaxed.

Abruptly, it became less important that he adhere to his usual habits. Perhaps he could make time for a little breakfast, Troy reasoned. A five-minute delay would make no difference in his schedule.

He found himself seated at the table facing a plate heaped with cakes, crisp bacon, and eggs. Gabriella filled a cup with steaming black coffee, and smiled at him once more before resuming her place at the stove with Taylor. Troy picked up his fork and stared at it as if he didn't quite know what to do with it.

"They're good, sir," Jason ventured, stuffing his mouth so greedily that it seemed likely he would choke.

Troy took a bite of the fruit-soaked cake and washed it down with a swallow of hot coffee. As he continued to eat, He felt a familiar sense of well-being. Good God, it had been ages since he'd had anything other than Taylor's wretched concoctions.

For the next few minutes Troy ate until the platter of cakes was demolished. Gabriella came now and then to refill his cup or offer more bacon. The cozy warmth of the kitchen and the sight of Gabriella as she moved about the room caused a tide of unwilling pleasure inside him. Setting down his fork, Troy stood and regarded her without smiling. "I must go now. Thank you for the breakfast, Miss Montez."

One last mug of coffee was pressed into his hands, and Gabriella's luscious brown eyes stared into his. "Will you spend the day in the office, sir?"

Troy shook his head. The heat of the stove had made her cheeks pink and glistening. He wanted to kiss, lick, taste her. "I will be out for most of the morning," he said, his voice raspy. "I am conducting an investigation - there was a murder in Russell Square last evening."

"Be careful."

It had been a long time since anyone had said that to him. Troy damned himself for feeling so easily unsettled... but there it was, that velvety tickle of pleasure he could not seem to elude. He nodded shortly, giving her a wary glance before leaving.

* * *

><p>Gabriella spent the first half of the day attending to a waist-high pile of papers that had been shoved into a corner of Troy's office. As she filed the mass of information, she welcomed the opportunity to become familiar with the criminal records room, which was dusty and unkempt. It would take days, perhaps weeks, to organise the drawers of materials properly. While Gabriella worked, she reflected on what she had learnt of Troy Bolton so far, including the stray comments she had heard from servants and clerks and runners. It seemed that the Chief Magistrate was an inhumanely self-controlled man who never swore or shouted or drank to excess. A few soft-voiced directions from him would make the fearsome runners hasten to obey. Troy Bolton was admired by all who worked for him, but at the same time they delighted in jesting about his cold and methodical nature.<p>

Gabriella did not believe that he was cold. She perceived something beneath his austere facade, a powerfully contained sexuality that would be all-consuming if it were ever set free. Given the intensity of his nature, Troy Bolton would not approach lovemaking in a casual way. It was too important, too rare for him; he would have to care deeply for his partner before he slept with her. If Gabriella were to succeed in seducing him, she would have to earn his affection. But how did one go about making such a man fall in love? She suspected that he would respond to a woman who supplied the softness that was clearly missing in his life. After all, he was not some godlike being with limitless strength. He was a man, one who pushed himself too hard. For a man who carried so many burdens on his shoulders, it would be a relief to have someone take care of his needs.

Returning to Troy's office, Gabriella used a rag to wipe the dust from the windowsill. She happened to see the object of her thoughts on the street below, as Troy paused at the iron fence that fronted the building. He appeared to be speaking to a woman who had been waiting at the gate. The woman wore a brown shawl that covered her hair and shoulders, and Gabriella remembered that Jason had turned her away earlier in the day. The woman had wanted to see Troy, Jason had told her to return tomorrow as the Chief Magistrate was occupied with pressing matters.

However, Troy opened the gate for the woman and walked with her to the entrance. Gabriella was touched by his consideration for someone who was surely of a much lower class. She was ill-dressed and haggard, yet the Chief Magistrate gave her his arm as courteously as if she were a duchess.

When Troy brought the woman into his office, Gabriella noticed the hitch of a frown between his brows. "Good afternoon, Miss Montez," he said evenly, guiding his visitor to a chair. The woman was thin, middle-aged, and haggard in appearance, her eyes red from crying. "This is Miss Jones, who I understand was turned away by Jason this morning."

"I believe Jason was concerned that your schedule was already quite full," Gabriella murmured.

"I can always make time when it is necessary." Troy half sat, half leaned against his desk, his arms folded across his chest. He spoke in a gently encouraging tone that Gabriella had not heard from him before. "You said that you fear for your sister's safety, Miss Jones. Pray tell me what had caused such concern."

The trembling spinster clutched the ends of her shawl and spoke in a choked voice. "My younger sister, Sophia is married to Mr Jeremy Fowler." She paused, evidently overcome by emotion.

"Mr Fowler's employment is...?" Troy prompted inquiringly.

"He is a medical professional. They live above the shop at St. James's market. There is trouble between Mr Fowler and Sophia, and - "she stopped and twisted the knitted shawl in tight, frantic fists. "She did something a month ago that put him in a rage. And I haven't seen her since."

"She is missing from her home?"

"No sir... Mr Fowler keeps her locked in a room and won't let her out. She's been in there for almost 4 weeks. No one can go inside to see her... I think she has taken ill, and I've begged Mr Fowler to let her go, but he won't, as he's still of a mind to punish her."

"Punish her for what?" Troy asked quietly.

Red flags of shame crossed the woman's narrow cheeks. "I think Sophia took up with another man. It was very bad of her, I know. But Sophia is good at heart, and I'm certain she is sorry for what she did and wants Mr Fowler's forgiveness." Miss Jones eyes watered, and she blotted them with her shawl. "No one will help me free my poor sister, as they all say it's a matter between husband and wife. Mr Fowler says he's only done this because he loves her so, and she hurt him so awfully. No one, not even the rest of my family, blames him for locking her away."

Troy's eyes were hard and icy. "I am always puzzled by this so-called love that causes men to brutalise their wives. In my opinion, a man who truly loves a woman would never intentionally harm her, no matter how great the betrayal." His gaze softened as he regarded the desperate woman before him. "I will send a runner to the Fowler residence immediately, Miss Jones."

"Oh, sir," she faltered, weeping in patent relief. "Thank you, and bless you a thousand times."

As the runner escorted Miss Jones from the office, Gabriella approached Troy and regarded him thoughtfully. He remained in his half-seated position on the desk, which brought their faces nearly level. His expression was brooding, deep brackets carved on either side of his lips. Although Gabriella had heard of the Chief Magistrate's well-known compassion for women and children, she was surprised by his willingness to interfere in a conflict between husband and wife. A wife was legally considered to be a man's property, and he could do as he pleased with her, short of actual murder. "That was very kind of you," she said.

The frown remained on Troy's face. "I'd like to make Fowler suffer in the same way his wife has."

Gabriella was in complete agreement, but she could not resist playing the devil's advocate. "Some would say that Mrs Fowler deserved such punishment for sleeping with another man," she pointed out.

"Regardless of her behaviour, her husband had no right to retaliate in such a manner."

"What would your response be if your wife betrayed you with someone else?"

It was apparent that the question surprised the magistrate. In one abrupt moment Gabriella had turned the conversation into something personal. Troy stared at her steadily, sudden tension causing his shoulder muscles to strain tightly against his coat. "I don't know," he admitted. "My wife was not the kind of woman who would have succumbed to that particular temptation. The issue was never a concern for me."

"What if you married again?" Gabriella asked, held prisoner by his intense blue gaze. "Wouldn't you worry about your wife's fidelity?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I would keep her so busy in my bed that she would neither have the time nor the inclination to seek another man's company."

The words caused an odd quiver to shoot through Gabriella's belly. It was an admission of nothing less than an all-consuming sexual appetite. It confirmed everything she had learnt about him so far. Troy Bolton was not a man to do anything by half measures. Before she could stop herself, Gabriella imagined what it might be like to lie tangled with him in intimacy, his mouth at her breasts, his hands moving gently over her body. Her face flamed with a mixture of embarrassment and awareness.

"Forgive me," he said softly. "I should not have spoken so frankly.

Gabriella flushed. "It was my fault," she managed to say. "I should not have asked such personal questions. I don't know why I did."

"Don't you?" His gaze snared hers again, and the hot flicker in his eyes made it difficult for her to breathe.

Gabriella had been trying to discover more a bout his character and the workings of his heart. It was all for the purpose of manipulation, of course. Unfortunately, she was finding it difficult to ignore a growing attraction to the man she planned to hurt. She wanted to remain cool and uninvolved when they finally shared a bed. However, there were so many seductive qualities about him: his intelligence, his compassion for vulnerable creatures, the raw need beneath his self-controlled façade.

Just as she felt a reluctant softening in her heart toward him, she thought of her dead brother, and her determination burned with new vigour. John must be avenged, or else his life would be robbed of any meaning at all. To let go of the past meant that she had failed John, and that was something that she could not do.

After a moment of calculation, she admitted carefully. "I suppose I am curious about you. You rarely talk about yourself, or of your past."

"There is little in my past that would interest you," he assured her. "I am an ordinary man from an equally ordinary family."

The statement should have reeked of false humility. After all, Troy Bolton was a man of remarkable accomplishments and abilities. Surely he was aware of his own achievements, his keen mind, his good looks, his sterling reputation. However, Gabriella realised that he did not consider himself superior to any other man. He demanded so much of himself that he could never live up to his own impossible standards.

"You are not ordinary," she half whispered. "You are fascinating."

There was no doubt that Troy was often approached by women who had a personal interest in him. As a handsome widower with deep pockets and considerable social and political influence, he was probably the most eligible man in London. Yet, Gabriella's statement had clearly caught him off guard. He gave her a baffled stare, seeming unable to form a reply.

Silence weighted the air. Finally Gabriella spoke, trying to sound brisk. "I will see about supper. Will you eat in the kitchen or here?"

Troy focused on his desk with inordinate attention. "Send a tray up here. I have more to do tonight."

"You should sleep," she said. "You work far too much."

He picked up a letter and broke the seal. "Good night, Miss Montez," he murmured, his gaze falling on the page.

Gabriella left the office and wandered through the hall with a frown. Why should she care if he refused to get the rest he needed? Let him work himself into an early grave, she thought. It hardly mattered to her if he ruined his health, the stubborn ox! But the irritation stayed with her as she recalled the weary smudges beneath his eyes. She reasoned that her concern stemmed from her desire for revenge. After all, one can hardly seduce a man when he was exhausted and half starved.

_*Covent Garden is a district in London._

* * *

><p><strong>Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ and if you can spare the time, please follow my account iheartconfessionss ! Thanks for reading once again!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Sorry that it took kinda long and that this is a filler chapter, not much but there will be better chapters, trust me! Thanks for sticking with me and enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Why should she care if he refused to get the rest he needed? Let him work himself into an early grave, she thought. It hardly mattered to her if he ruined his health, the stubborn ox! But the irritation stayed with her as she recalled the weary smudges beneath his eyes. She reasoned that her concern stemmed from her desire for revenge. After all, one can hardly seduce a man when he was exhausted and half starved.<em>

On the days that Troy served as sitting magistrate, Gabriella brought his lunch plate to the office after early court sessions were finished. While he ate at his desk, she would straighten his papers and dust his shelves and carry reports to the criminal records room. However, he was not one to take regular meals, often regarding food as an unwelcome interruption to his work.

The first time that Troy had refused lunch, informing Gabriella that he was too busy to eat, she had offered the plate to Jason.

"Jason is busy also," Troy said shortly. "You may take the plate away."

"Yes, sir," Gabriella replied, seeming not at all perturbed. "Perhaps later - "

"I _am_ a bit hungry," Jason interrupted, staring at the covered plate with stark longing. A man with a hearty appetite, Jason did not like to miss a meal. "That smells delicious, Miss Montez... may I ask what it is?"

"Marjoram sausage and potatoes. And green peas in cream."

Troy's appetite kindled at the savory fragrance that wafted from the plate. Lately Gabriella had taken a strong hand in the kitchen, showing Taylor how to prepare edible meals. She paid close attention to his likes and dislikes, observing that he preferred well-seasoned food and had an incurable sweet tooth. In the past several days Troy had succumbed to the temptation of crisp-crusted charlotte pudding mounted high with orange filling... plum cake rich with molasses and currants... sugared apple wedged between thick layers of dough. Not surprisingly, he had begun to put on weight. The hollows of his cheeks had filled out, and his clothes no longer hung in loose folds - all which would doubtless please his mother, who had often worried over his leaness.

Jason closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Green peas in cream... my mother used to make them that way. Tell me, Miss Montez, did you add a pinch of nutmeg as she did?"

"Why, yes - " Gabriella began.

"Give him the tray," Troy growled. "It's obvious that I won't have a moment's peace otherwise."

Gabriella sent him a vaguely apologetic smile as she obeyed.

Jason accepted the lunch tray and unfolded the cloth napkin with obvious delight. Beaming, he called after her when she left, "Thank you, Miss Montez!"

While Troy was working diligently, he was irritably aware of Jason's lip-smacking and moans of enjoyment as he devoured the lunch. "Do you have to make so much noise?" Troy finally asked, looking up from his desk with a scowl.

Jason stuffed his mouth with another large spoonful of peas. "Forgive me, sir. But this is a meal fit for a king. The next time you wish to forgo your lunch, sir, I will gladly take it in your stead."

There would not be a next time, Troy had cowed silently, annoyed beyond bearing to see someone else enjoying _his_ meal. From then on, lunch in his office became a sacred ritual, and no one dared to interfere.

* * *

><p>Gabriella's influence soon extended to more personal details of his life. She made certain that water for his morning shave was always steaming hot, and she added glycerine to his shaving soap to soften his stubble. Observing that his boots and shoes needed attention, she mixed her own recipe for blacking and frequently nagged Kelsi to keep Troy's shoes polished.<p>

One morning, having discovered that most of his ties had disappeared from his top drawer, Troy went to the kitchen. He found Gabriella at the table, making notes in a little stitched-together book. Noticing that Troy had entered the kitchen, she gave him a swift but thorough glance that went from head to toe. Troy smirked, knowing that she was checking him out. At this sign of discreet feminine interest, Troy suddenly had trouble remembering why he went to the kitchen in the first place.

"Miss Montez - " he began gruffly.

"Your ties," she said with a snap of her slender fingers, evidently recalling that she had removed them from his cupboard. "I washed and pressed them yesterday, but I forgot to have them returned to your room. I will send Kelsi up with them shortly."

"Thank you," Troy said, distracted by a silky lock of brown hair that had made its escape from the hairtie and held her her up in a ponytail. He was almost overcome by the temptation to reach out and wind the soft strands around his fingers.

"Before you return to your room, sir, you should be aware that some of your ties are gone."

"Gone?" He repeated with an inquiring frown.

"I sold them to the ragman." An impudent smile danced on her lips as she continued, silently daring him to protest. "The colours had run for several of them. A man in your position couldn't possibly be seen in them. So you will have to purchase new ones."

"I see." Thoroughly engaged by her impertinence, Troy leaned over her and placed one hand on the top of the chair that she's seating in. Although he did not touch her, she was completely trapped. "Well, Miss Montez, since you have taken it upon yourself to dispose of my ties, I think you should be the one to replace them. Jason will take you out for shopping later this afternoon, and you can purchase the new ones on my credit. I will leave the selection to your taste."

Her head tilted back so she could meet his gaze, and her eyes sparkled with anticipation at the thought of a shopping expedition. "With pleasure, sir."

As Troy stared into Gabriella's upturned face, he was greatly puzzled. It had been a long time since anyone had paid such close attention to such trivial matters as his ties and the temperature of his shaving water. But part of him relished it... the almost wifely attentiveness on which he was becoming far too dependent. As with all things he did not understand, Troy examined Gabriella's possible motives. He could not come up with a single reason that she would wish to pamper him.

Gabriella's thick lashes lowered as she glanced once more to where his shirt revealed his bare throat. Her breath quickened slightly, betraying her awareness of him. He thought of sliding his hand behind her neck, holding her steady as he bent to capture her mouth. But it had been a long time since he had made such an advance to a woman and he was not completely certain that she would welcome her attention.

"Miss Montez," he murmured, staring into her eyes that were chocolate brown with tones of amber in them that seemed to dance in the sunlight. "The next time you dispose of my clothing, you had better give me advance warning." A roguish smile tugged at his lips as he leaned a fraction closer and added, "I would hate to come down here without pants."

* * *

><p>To Troy's chagrin, he was not the only man at Bow Street to appreciate Gabriella's considerable charms. As Chad had predicted, the runners were after her like a pack of frolicsome wolves, sniffing and nipping at her heels. Before reporting to him at nine each morning, they would wait at the kitchen door for leftover scraps from breakfast. They would tease and flirt with her, and spin exaggerated tales of their own accomplishments.<p>

Discovering that Gabriella was willing to treat minor wounds, the men began to invent aches and pains that required her attention. After learning that she had bound at least three hairy sprained ankles and administered two poultices and wrapped a sore throat in the course of a single week, Troy lost his temper.

"You tell the runners," he snapped at Jason, "that if they are becoming so damned clumsy and sickly of late, they can see a bloody doctor! I am forbidding Miss Montez to treat any more injuries, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Jason stared at him with obvious amazement. "I've never seen you in a temper before, Mr Bolton."

"I'm not in a temper!"

"You are shouting and cursing," Jason pointed out reasonably. "If that isn't a temper, what is?"

Troy struggled to emerge from the red haze that surrounded him. With great effort, he modulated his tone. "I raised my voice merely for the purpose of being empathetic," he said through clenched teeth. "My point is, the runners are not going to fake injuries and illness as an excuse to have Miss Montez doctor them. She has enough responsibilities as it is - I won't have her plagued by the pack of idiots who work for me."

"Yes, sir," Jason replied, averting his face, but not before Troy saw the twitch of a perceptive smile at his lips.

* * *

><p>As word of Bow Street pretty new employer spread among the patrols, Gabriella was besieged by eager constables. She treated them all with the same friendly politeness. Troy sensed that she was guarding herself and her heart very carefully. After the wretched way she had been treated by her lover, any man would have an uphill battle to gain her trust.<p>

Troy was increasingly curious about the man who had betrayed Gabriella - what he had looked like, and what it was about him that had attracted her. Unable to help himself, Troy finally asked Taylor if Gabriella had confided anything about her lover. It was Gabriella's day off and Bow Street seemed strangely empty without her, and though the day was only half over, Troy found himself watching the clock impatiently.

A knowing smile crossed Taylor's face at his question.

"If Gabriella did say anything about him, Mr Bolton, it was told in confidence. Besides, you lectured me last month about my gossiping ways, and now I've made a pledge to reform myself."

Troy gave her a hard, level stare. "Taylor, why is it that now, when I'm finally interested in something you have to gossip about, you've decided to reform?"

She laughed, displaying her gleaming white pearls. "I'll tell you what she has said about him - if you tell me why you want to know."

Troy kept his face expressionless. "I was merely asking out of polite kindness for her well-being."

Taylor snorted with skeptical amusement. "I'll tell you, sir, but you mustn't let on, or Miss Montez will have me done to a turn. His name was Zeke. She said he was young and handsome, and was good at cooking. She likes men who can cook, you see."

Troy received the information with a slight frown. "Go on."

"They met while Miss Montez was at a market and both of them were shopping for ingredients. He charmed her, following her around and complimenting her on her food choices. They got on well, debating on the advantages and disadvantages of using blueberries akin to strawberries.

Troy grunted in displeasure. The image of Gabriella in another man's arms - a young and handsome man who was good at cooking - chafed like new leather against a blister. "Unfortunately, he forgot to mention that he had a wife."

"Yes. The coward simply left her after he had taken her pleasure - he never bothered to tell her about his wife. Miss Montez says she will never love again."

"She will marry someday," Troy replied cynically. "It's only a matter of time."

"Yes, Miss Montez will probably marry," Taylor said pragmatically. "What I said was, she will never _love_ again."

He shrugged casually. "If one is to marry, it is best to do it for reasons other than love."

"That is exactly what Miss Montez says." Taylor took her leave, pausing at the door to add with a bit too much sincerity, "How sensible you both are!" She departed with a chuckle while Troy scowled after her.

**Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ and if you can spare the time, please follow my account iheartconfessionss ! Thanks for reading once again!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's like a month plus or so but here's another update! I made it extra longgg for you guys :) and there will be a fluffy Troyella bit at the end, because a guest reviewer requested for more Troyella scenes! Not to worry though, Troyella would be more frequent in the later chapters ;) I have been writing this over a span of 2 weeks or so, and I was really eager to update this for you guys, so I didn't do a thorough check in the spellings and grammar errors, so pardon me if you spot any. In the meantime, please enjoy this long update :D and if you liked it, please please review, favourite and follow this story! Let me know if you have any ideas for the direction of this story in the reviews as well and I might take your idea! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>"That is exactly what Miss Montez says." Taylor took her leave, pausing at the door to add with a bit too much sincerity, "How sensible you both are!" She departed with a chuckle while Troy scowled after her.<em>

After a fortnight of diligent work, the runners finally managed to locate Nick Gentry, the popular figure of the London underworld. As word of Nick Gentry's detainment spread through the slums and rockeries of London, a large crowd gathered outside the gates, blocking the entire thoroughfare so that no vehicles could pass. Nick's name spread throughout London. He directed gangs in their illegal activities, telling them how and when to commit crimes they might not have attempted without his guidance. Pickpockets, burglars, whores and murderers all reported to him, receiving his assistance in matters ranging from disposing of stolen goods to helping felons avoid arrest.

Gabriella learnt from the runners that Troy had dedicated his life to nab the notorious Nick Gentry. He hated Gentry with a passion and that the rioters outside would have no effect in deterring him.

Troy and the runners did not leave the interrogating room for the whole day. When Gabriella saw Chad coming out of the room, curiosity got the better of her and she approached him. Chad smirked when he saw her walking towards him. "Ah, Miss Montez... just the companion I was hoping for. No doubt you've come here for a passionate tryst. Finally gonna admit your feelings for me, eh?"

"Yes," Gabriella said dryly, having learnt that the best way to deal with the runners was to match their irreverence. "I have finally been swept up in the romantic atmosphere of Bow Street. Where shall we tryst, Mr Danforth?"

Chad grinned. "I'm afraid I shall have to disappoint you, angel. Bolton only gave me five minutes' leave - not nearly enough time. Please contain your disappointment."

Gabriella folded her arms and regarded him with a slight smile. "How is it in the interrogating room with Troy - uh I mean - Mr Bolton?" Gabriella stammered.

Chad smiled wryly at her mistake, then sighed, suddenly looking weary. "Bolton hasn't gotten much out of Nick so far." He rubbed his face and groaned. "I suppose it is time for me to go back down there."

"Good luck," she said sympathetically.

* * *

><p>Soon enough, the rioters outside started getting violent. Some of them were carrying weapons, and there were small fires in the street where furniture had been bought and set alight. Bottles of beer were bought and the crowd were drinking freely. The buildings around were assaulted; windows were broken, and fists were beating angrily on the doors.<p>

Gabriella flinched as rocks and bottles were thrown, striking the building. "This is madness," she exclaimed. "Does Mr Bolton know how bad it is getting? Before long they'll reduce the place to matchsticks!"

Everyone jumped as a rock shattered the window, sending a shower of splintered glass to the floor.

"My God!" Taylor exclaimed.

Gabriella could take it no longer. "I'm going to find Mr Bolton."

The noise outside was deafening, the air acrid with smoke. Although no one had yet managed to scale the iron fence, Gabriella could see a ladder being passed over on top of the mob.

Gabriella broke into a sprint as she made her way to the interrogating room. When she opened the door, Gabriella saw two runners, Troy, and a tall, well-dressed man who lounged insolently near the vent. He must be Nick Gentry, Gabriella thought. Before she had a glimpse of his face however, Troy turned and approached her in a few swift strides.

"_What are you doing here?_" His voice was edged with a savagery that made her flinch. Gabriella's startled gaze lifted to his face, which was hard and fierce, the blue eyes burning with wrath.

"I told you not to come down here," he snapped. Although he was not precisely shouting, his voice was resonant with fury.

"I'm sorry, but there's something you must know -"

"When I tell you not to do something, _you obey me_, no matter what happens. Do you understand?"

"Yes, O lord and master," Gabriella said sarcastically, her tension and worry sparking into anger. "However, I thought you should be informed that the mob is going crazy. The constables can't hold them back much longer. They're breaking the windows. If you don't do something about it, they'll burn the building to the ground."

"Chad." Troy turned to his trusty companion. "Go have a look outside. If the situation warrants, send for military." He glanced back at Gabriella. "And _you _- go upstairs and stay inside until I tell you otherwise."

Stung by the sharp way he spoke to her, she nodded and left the room as fast as her feet could take her.

As Gabriella left the room, Nick Gentry, who had been contemplating the window, turned back around.

"Nice little piece," he commented, obviously referring to Gabriella. "Got her working the brass for you, Bolton? I think I'll take her when you're done."

Being familiar with street cant, Troy knew exactly what "working the brass" meant. It referred to a style of iron bed with brass knobs, and the activities that might take place on it. Usually, the taunts of a prisoner had no effect on Troy. However, this seemed to be the one occasion when he couldn't control himself. The reference to Gabriella as if she were a common prostitute was all it took to send his fury skyrocketing.

"Either close that hole in the middle of your face," he snarled, "or I'll do it for you."

Nick grinned, clearing pleased with the success of his jab. "You've been trying to make me talk all day, and now you want me to shut my mouth?" Nick was a handsome young man. One could almost mistake him for one of the millionaire playboys who spent their time gambling and chasing women while they waited for their inheritances. But something about his face betrayed that he was a creature of the streets... a coldness that showed in his eyes and robbed his smile of all meaning. Somewhere in his past, Nick Gentry had learned that life was a bitter contest for dominance. He intended to win, and played by no recognisable set of rules. Loyalty, fairness, mercy - these were qualities that he did not recognise. Troy found it surprising that such a bastard like Nick had garnered so much support among the masses.

Nick gave him a sly grin, as if he could read Troy's thoughts. "You'll have trouble on your hands tonight, Bolton. Listen to that crowd... they'll smash this place to the ground if you don't let me go."

"You're not going anywhere for the next two days," Troy said. "You're going to molder in this room for as long as I can legally keep you here. You may as well make yourself comfortable."

"In this slosh-pot?" Nick returned sourly. "Not bloody likely."

* * *

><p>As Gabriella emerged from the interrogating room, she was alarmed to discover that the mob had finally raged out of control. People were climbing the fence and dropping to the ground, scurrying like rodents towards the building. It seemed that every room and hallway was filled, the walls reverberating with the sounds of angry shouting.<p>

Jason was frantically trying to calm the crowd. Catching sight of Gabriella, he called out something to her, but the noise in the hall was deafening. _Go back_, he seemed to be saying, waving with his hand for her to leave.

Gabriella turned to obey, but more of the mob swarmed through the doors. She was jostled and shoved to the side, fighting to keep from being pushed beneath trampling feet. It was hot and deafening in the hall, and the smells of alcohol and unwashed bodies filled the air with a nasty stench. Gabriella was crushed against the wall and jabbed by elbows and shoulders, her head bumping hard against the hard paneling.

Trying not to panic, Gabriella looked for Jason, but he was no longer visible. "Jason!" She cried, her voice lost amid the uproar. "Jason!"

Some of the rioters began to paw at her bodice, rough hands seeking the shape of her breasts. The shoulder of her dress ripped, and the expose of her shoulder seemed to inflate them. Gabriella shoved at the coarse hands, but she was jammed against the wall until the breath was driven from her lungs. Someone pulled at her hair, and her scalp smarted while tears of pain sprang to her eyes.

Gabriella turned away from the encroaching bodies, pressing the side of her face to the wall. She struggled for air as she was suffocated and mauled at the same time. Her ribs squeezed until it seemed they would crack. Her mind swam dizzily, and it became difficult for her to think. "Get away from me," she gasped. "Stop it, stop, _stop _-"

Suddenly the pressure eased, and she heard the people around her grunting in pain. Stunned, Gabriella turned to see a huge, dark shape plowing through the sea of tightly packed bodies. It was Troy, his blue eyes focused on Gabriella. There was a strange expression on his face, at once blank and violent. He was brutally efficient as he shoved and struck his way through the crowd, not seeming to care that he left a path of bruises and bloody noses in his wake.

Reaching Gabriella, Troy pulled her into his arms, making a protective cage of his own body and the wall. She attached to him with a sigh of relief, blindly accepting his protection. Huddling against his broad chest, Gabriella heard the deep thunder of his voice as he shouted to the agitators with the threat that they would all be in custody if they didn't start moving out. His words had an immediate effect. The intruders nearest to the door began to file outside rapidly, having to wish to be imprisoned.

Gabriella flinched as she felt someone fumbling at her feet. She pressed closer to Troy, her arms clutching around his biceps. Before she could say a word, he realised the problem.

"You!" Troy snarled at the man behind her. "Lay a hand on this woman again, and you will lose it."

Clasped safely in the circle of Troy's arm, Gabriella marveled at the way he was able to dominate a crowd with his mere presence. Everything had been chaos, and he had restored order in less than a minute. The muscles of his back flexed as he pulled her between his thighs, holding her in the shelter of his body.

Gabriella kept her cheek pressed to his chest, against the steady but rapid rhythm of his heart. His huge hand rested on the center of her back, and she thought of how it might feel against her breast, his long fingers cupping her tender flesh, his thumb stroking her nipple...

_My God _- the frantic words swept through her brain - _don't even think about it, don't._ But her body was filled with a strange, warm ache, and she could only breathe in shallow gasps. It was all she could do to keep from thrusting herself at him shamelessly, crushing her mouth against his.

"It's alright." His low whisper brushed against her ear. "Don't be afraid."

He had mistaken her trembling for fear. Good; it was far better that he think she was a silly coward, rather than suspect the truth. Mortified, Gabriella tried to calm herself. She moistened her dry lips and spoke. "I'm glad you finally decided to do something," she said, trying to sound impudent. "You waited long enough."

Troy made a soft sound that could be taken for either irritation or amusement. "I was busy with Nick."

"I thought I would be crushed," she said shakily.

She was astonished as he cuddled her closer. "You're safe," he murmured. "No one is going to harm you."

Realising that he was more than ready to comfort her, Gabriella decided that this was a golden opportunity to appeal to his protective streak. She knew Troy Bolton well enough by now to be certain that he could not resist the lure of a damsel in distress. Although part of her cringed in embarrassment, she continued to cling to him as if she were overcome by fear.

"I called to Jason, but he couldn't hear me," she said, letting a plaintive note enter her voice.

He murmured softly and rubbed her spine with a comforting stroke. Although Gabriella tried to ignore the pleasure of his touch, it spread through her body in an insidious tide. Closing her eyes, she wondered how long she could endure the slow caress of his hands. Her breasts felt full and heavy against his chest, her nipples turning hard.

Gently, Troy tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. The brush of his fingertips on her skin sent a ripple of warm sensation through her. "Were you hurt in the crush, Gabriella?"

"I... I'm a bit bruised." Pretending to be overwrought, she put her arms around his neck and held on tightly. The closeness of his large body made her feel safe, supported, protected. She wanted to stand like this forever. He was her enemy, she reminded herself... but for the moment, that did not matter nearly as it should have.

Troy gave a cursory glance around them as the hall begin to clear. She gasped as he bent to pick her up. "Oh, sir, there is no need. I can walk, I'm - "

He ignored her protests as he carried her through the hall. For a woman who was used to taking care of herself, it was acutely embarrassing to play the helpless maiden. However, it was necessary to further her goal. Turning pink, Gabriella clung to the hard breadth of his shoulders. Troy carried her through the hall and up a flight of stairs.

When they reached his office, Troy set her carefully on her feet. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, her heartbeat hurtling in a reckless cadence.

"I want to talk about something," he said quietly.

"When you came to the interrogating room earlier, you happened to interrupt a rather tense moment of questioning, and I-"

"I'm sorry."

"Let me finish." A sudden smile curved his lips. "I've never known anyone with such a propensity for interrupting me."

Gabriella managed to keep her mouth close, and his smile deepened.

"Questioning Nick is hardly a pleasant experience. I've been in a foul mood all afternoon, and seeing you down there was the last straw. I rarely lose my temper, and I regret doing so in front of you."

Somewhat unnerved, Gabriella moistened her lips and asked, "Why is it so important that I stay away from there?"

Carefully he took hold of the loose lock of brown hair that escaped from her ponytail to her shoulder. His long fingers rubbed the strands as if he were releasing the perfume of a flower petal. "I promised myself when I hired you that I would try to protect you. There are some things that a woman should never be exposed to. That room has contained some of the most vile people on earth."

"Like Nick Gentry?"

Troy frowned. "Yes. It is bad enough that you are exposed to the rabble who cross through the Bow Street office daily. But I won't allow you in the vicinity of men like Nick."

"I am hardly a child who needs to be sheltered. I am a woman of twenty-six."

For some reason the remark caused his eyes to gleam with amusement. "Well, despite your vast number of years, I would like to preserve as much of your innocence as possible."

"But I am not innocent. You know that, after what I've told you of my past."

He released the lock of her hair and framed the sides of her face with the tips of his fingers. "You _are_ innocent, Gabriella. As I've said from the beginning, you should not be working here. You should be living a peaceful life in an office or something."

Gabriella sent him a flirtatious grin from beneath her lashes. "But if I left Bow Street, who would take care of you?"

A gruff laugh escaped him, and his hands dropped from her face. But his searching gaze held hers, and Gabriella felt her insides tighten in response.

"You can't spend the rest of your life working for a surly old magistrate at Bow Street," he said.

Gabriella smiled at the way Troy described himself. Rather than argue the point, however, she stepped away and viewed his office his office critically. "I will tidy up in here."

Troy shook his head. "It is late. You need to rest. Your work will wait until tomorrow."

"Very well. I shall retire for the evening... if you will also."

He seemed vaguely annoyed by the suggestion. "No, I still have much to do. Good night, Miss Montez."

Gabriella knew that she should obey without further comment. But the shadows beneath his eyes and the deep brackets on the sides of his lips were proof that he was exhausted. Good heavens, why must he push himself so hard?

"I don't require any more sleep than you do, sir. If you stay up late, I am capable of doing the same. I also have work to do."

His brows lowered in a forbidding scowl. "Go to bed, Miss Montez."

Gabriella did not flinch. "Not until you do."

"My bedtime has nothing to do with yours," he said curtly, "unless you are suggesting that we go to bed together."

Clearly, the remark was meant to intimidate her into silence.

A reckless reply came to mind, one so bold that she bit her tongue to keep from speaking. And then she thought, _Why not?_ It was time to declare her sexual interest in him... time to advance her plan of seduction one more step.

"All right," she said quickly. "If that is what it takes to make you get the rest you require-so be it."

His dark face went blank. The lengthy silence that ensued was evidence of hoe greatly she had surprised him. _My God_, she thought in a flutter of panic. _Now I've done it._ She could not predict how Troy would respond. Being a gentleman - a notoriously celibate one - he might refuse her proposition. However, there was something in his expression - a flicker in his blue eyes - that made her wonder if he might not accept the impulsive invitation. And if he did, she would have to carry it out and sleep with him. The thought jarred her very soul. This was what she planned, what she had wanted to achieve, but she was suddenly terrified.

Terrified by the realisation of how much she wanted him.

Slowly Troy approached, following as she backed away one step, then another, until her spine was flattened against the door. His alert gaze did not move from her flushed face as he braced his hands on the door, placing them on either side of her head.

"My bedroom or yours?"

Perhaps he expected her to back down, stammer, run away.

Her hands curled into balls of tension. "Which would you prefer?" she parried.

His head tilted as he studied her, his eyes oddly caressing. "My bed is bigger."

"Oh," was all she could manage to whisper. Her heart crashed repeatedly against the wall of her chest, pounding the breath from her lungs.

He looked at her as if he could read her every thought and emotion. "However," he murmured, relenting. "if we retire together, I doubt that either of us would get much rest."

"P-probably not," she agreed unsteadily.

"Therefore, I suppose it would be for the best if we adhered to our usual arrangement."

"Our usual..."

"You go to your bed, and I'll go to mine."

Relief flooded her, leaving her weak, but at the same time she was aware of a subtle wash of disappointment.

"You won't stay up late, then?" she asked.

He grinned at her perseverance. "Good God, you're tenacious. No, I won't cross you. I fear the consequences if I do." Standing back, he opened the door for her. "Miss Montez, there is just one more thing."

Gabriella paused before leaving. "Yes, sir?"

He reached for her, his hand sliding around the back of her neck. Gabriella was too startled to move or breathe, her entire body stiffening as his head lowered to hers. He touched her only with his lips and with his hand at her nape, but she was helpless as if she had been bound to him with iron chains.

There had been no time to prepare herself... she was defenseless and stunned, unable to withhold her response. At first his lips were gentle, exquisitely careful, as if he feared bruising her. Then he coaxed her to give him more, his mouth settling more firmly on hers. The taste of him, his intimate flavour with the hint of coffee, affected her like a drug. The tip of his tongue slid past her teeth in silken exploration. He tasted the interior of her mouth, stroked the slick insides of her cheeks. She had never been kissed like this. Troy was feeding her rising passion as if he were layering kindling on a blaze. Devastated by his skill, Gabriella swayed dizzily and clutched his hard neck.

Oh, if only he would hold her tight and lock her full length against his... but he still touched her with that one hand, and consumed her mouth with patient hunger. Sensing the force of his passion, held so securely in check, Gabriella instinctively sought a way to release it. Her hands fluttered to the sides of his face, stroking his cheeks and jaw.

Troy made a quiet sound in his throat. Suddenly, he took hold of her shoulders and eased her away from his body, ignoring her whimpering protests. Gabriella's gaze locked with his in a moment of searing wonder. The stillness was broken only by their panting breaths. No man had ever looked at Gabriella that way, as if he could eat her with his gaze, as if he wanted to possess every inch of her body and every flicker of her soul. She was frightened by the power of her response to him, the unmentionable desires that shocked her.

Troy regarded her without smiling. "Good night, Gabriella."

She mumbled in reply and fled, moving as fast as possible without actually breaking into a run. Her mind swam with confusion as she made her way back. Her legs were leaden as she trudged up the stairs. Upon reaching her room, she closed the door with great care and shakily set herself on the bed.

Recollections filled her mind... Troy's light, smiling blue eyes, the way his chest moved as he breathed, the heat of his mouth, the searing liquid pleasure of his kiss. In the space of a few short minutes, Troy had aroused her far beyond any man... and he had left her with the unspoken promise of more. It was frightening, the realisation that she would not be able to stay unaffected when she finally shared a bed with him. Half angry, half despairing, Gabriella wondered why Troy Bolton couldn't be the pompous fool she had expected him to be. He was going to make it horribly difficult for her to betray him; she would not escape the experience unscathed.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I loved writing the Troyella scene HAHA. And don't kill me for making Troy seem so unaffected after the kiss. Please remember that he's been alone for most of his life, and he had a past relationship that scarred him terribly too (more details in later chapters) so he is being more careful and cautious with his heart. <strong>Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ and if you can spare the time, please follow my account iheartconfessionss ! Thanks for reading once again!<strong>**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Before I begin, I know, it's been so long since I've updated this story and I'm sorry. I was having a writer's block and did not know how to continue with this story. But the good news is, after that long break, I finally have some direction as to how I want the story to go. So enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>He was going to make it horribly difficult for her to betray him; she would not escape the experience unscathed.<em>

Troy questioned Nick Gentry for three days in the ruthlessly persistent style that usually wrung confessions from the most hardened characters. However, Gentry was steely and yet oddly relaxed, in the manner of man who had nothing to fear and nothing to lose.

Since all of London knew about Gentry's detainment and all eyes were on them, Troy did not dare hold Nick for one minute longer than the allocated three days and released him just before the break of dawn.

Containing his foul mood behind an expressionless mask, Troy went into his office without breakfast, he didn't have the appetite to eat. As per usual, Chad came into his office to talk for a few minutes before going to court. Chad had been known for his quick temper and impulsiveness, along with his intelligence and courage. "Your weakness," Troy had told him more than once, "is your habit of making up your mind too quickly, before taking all the evidence into account."

"I go with my instincts," Chad had parried.

"Instinct is a fine thing," Troy had said dryly, "but you must stay open to possibilities. No one's instincts are infallible."

"Not even yours?" came the pointed question.

"Not even mine."

As the two men talked, there was a light knock at the door.

"Come in," Troy said curtly.

Gabriella entered the room with a jug of steaming coffee. Troy tried to quell an instant surge of pleasure at the sight of her. Her slender figure was clad in a gray dress with a long-sleeved pelisse buttoned neatly over the bodice. After he had kissed her the night before last, Troy and Gabriella had tacitly agreed to avoid each other. For one thing, Troy had needed to keep his focus on the necessary work of questioning Nick. For another, it was obvious that Gabriella had been unnerved by the episode. She had not been able to meet his gaze ever since, and he had seen the way her hands trembled when she served him breakfast the following morning.

Yet she had not seemed to dislike kissing him. Rather the opposite, in fact. She had responded to him with a sweetness that had been most... pleasing. Arousing. Troy had been surprised at first by how tentative and unschooled she had seemed. Perhaps her lover had not liked kissing, or had not been proficient at it, for there was much that Gabriella had not been taught. All the same, she was the most desirable woman he had ever known.

"Good morning," Gabriella said, her wary gaze going first to Chad, then settling on Troy. She filled the empty mug on his desk. "I thought you might enjoy some freshly brewed coffee before I go out."

"Where are you going?" Troy asked, disgruntled at the realisation that it was her day off.

"I am going to the market, as Martha is not able. She tripped on the stairs this morning and injured her knee. I believe it will heal quickly, but in the meantime, she must not exert herself."

"Who is going to the market with you?"

"No one, sir."

"Not Taylor?"

"She has gone to visit her family in the country," Gabriella reminded him. "She left yesterday morning.

Troy was worried. It was not safe for a woman like Gabriella to go there alone, especially when she was still so new to the city. She could be approached, raped, or robbed so damned easily that it made his heart skip a beat to think of it.

"You are not going by yourself," he informed Gabriella curtly. "Every randy lout and rake in the vicinity will come to bother you."

"Martha often goes by herself, and never has any trouble."

"As I cannot reply without making an unflattering remark about Martha, I will hold my silence on that point. However, _you_ are not going to the market alone. You will take one of the runners with you."

"They are all gone." Chad interceded, glancing from Gabriella to Troy with an alert look in his eyes.

"_All_ of them?" Troy asked in flaring annoyance.

"Yes."

"What about Jason?"

Chad spread his hands in a gesture of futility. "He is printing his notes that are to be passed to you later."

Troy returned his attention to Gabriella. "You will wait until Jason returns, and he will accompany you to the market."

"That won't be until mid morning," she said indignantly. "I can't wait that long - all the best goods will be gone by then. In fact, the stalls are being picked over right now."

"That is a pity," Troy said without a shred of remorse. "Because you are not going alone. That is my final word of the subject."

Gabrielle leaned over his desk. For the first time in two days, she met his gaze directly. Troy was conscious of a deep delight curling through him as he saw the sparks of challenge in her blue eyes. "Mr Bolton, when we first met, I wondered if you had any flaws. Now I have discovered that you do."

"Oh?" He arched one brow. "What are my flaws?"

"You are overbearing, and you are unreasonably stubborn."

Chad interrupted with a snicker. "It has taken you a full _month_ of working here to reach that conclusion, Miss Montez?"

"I am not overbearing," Troy countered evenly. "I merely happen to know what is best for everyone."

Gabriella laughed and considered him thoughtfully in the silence that followed. Troy waited for her next move, fascinated by the little pucker that appeared between her fine brows. Then her forehead cleared as she appeared to have reached a satisfying conclusion. "Very well, Mr Bolton. I will not go to the market alone. I will take the only available escort - which appears to be you. You may meet me at the front door in ten minutes."

Robbed of any reply, Troy watched as Gabriella left the office. He was being managed, he thought with a twinge of annoyance, and damned adroitly, too. On the other hand, it had been a long time since any woman had tried to manage him, much less had succeeded, and for some reason he was enjoying it immensely.

As the door closed smartly behind Gabriella, Chad turned to look at Troy. His shrewd eyes were filled with speculation.

"Why are you staring like that?" Troy muttered.

"I've never seen you bicker like that before."

"I wasn't bickering. I was having a discussion."

"You were bickering," Chad insisted, "in a way that could be constructed as flirtation."

Troy scowled. "I was discussing an issue of safety, Chad, which is vastly different from flirtation."

Chad smiled wryly. "Whatever you say, sir."

Deliberately, Troy lifted his mug of coffee and drained half of it in one swallow. Rising from his chair, he picked up his coat and put it on.

Chad viewed him with surprise. "Where are you going, Bolton?"

Troy pushed a pile of documents across the desk to him. "To the market, of course. Look over these warrants for me, will you?"

"But... but..." For the first time in Troy's memory, Chad seemed bereft of speech. "I have to prepare for court!"

"It won't start for a quarter hour," Troy pointed out.

"For God's sake, how much time do you need?" He suppressed a grin as he left the office, feeling strangely light-hearted.

* * *

><p>Having accompanied Taylor to the Covent Garden market on a few occasions, Gabriella was familiar with the famous square. She took Troy's arm, tugging him toward the fruit stalls. "Let's hurry - I will be surprised if any apples are left by now."<p>

As Gabriella moved from one stall to another, Troy accompanied her obligingly. He did not interfere with her transactions, only waited patiently as she bargained for the best prices and quality. He hefted the considerable weight of the market basket with ease, while she filled it with an ever-growing assortment of meat, vegetables and fruits.

The moment the market crowd realised that the celebrated Chief Magistrate was present, chattering Cockney voices rose in a cheerful cacophony. The stall-holders and marketgoers held Troy in high esteem, calling to him, reaching out to touch the sleeve of his coat. They all seemed to know him personally, or at least pretended to, and Gabriella found being pushed at her - an extra apple, a bundle of kippers, a sprig of sage.

"Mr Bolton... here's a relish for ya!" was repeated again and again, and Gabriella finally asked him what the cant words meant.

"A relish is a small gift, usually considered to be a luxury, as a return for a favour."

"You have done favours for all of these people?" she asked.

"Many of them," he admitted.

"Such as?"

His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "A few of them have sons or nephews who have run afoul of the law - thievery, vandalism, and the like. The usual punishment for such offenses is to flog a boy, hang him, or send him to a prison where he will be further corrupted. But I had the notion to send some of these boys to the navy or merchant service, to train as officers' servants."

"And thereby give them a chance at a new kind of life," Gabriella said. "What a splendid plan."

"I've done nothing all that praiseworthy. I've just used a bit of common sense. It is obvious that putting a mischief-making boy in prison with hardened criminals will result in his corruption. And that even if the law makes no distinction between the crimes of adults and juveniles, some consideration must be given to those of tender age."

Gabriella turned away, pretending to look over the row of stalls while blind rage consumed her. She felt almost sick with it, choking on suppressed fury and tears. So he had found a new way to avoid sending young boys to prison - he no longer condemned them to the torture of the prison hulks. _Too damned late_, she thought with freshly spiking hatred. Had Troy come to this realisation sooner, her younger brother would still be alive. She wanted to scream and rail at him, at the unfairness of it all. She wanted her brother back; she wanted to erase every excruciating moment on the prison ship that had led to his death. Instead, he was gone. And she was alone. And Troy Bolton was responsible.

Averting her anger-hardened face, Gabriella went to a flower cart filled with a variety of blooms. She breathed in the perfumed air and forced herself to relax. Someday, she comforted herself silently, Troy Bolton would have his comeuppance - and she would deliver it personally.

The old woman who stood at the head of the flower cart regarded Gabriella with a soft smile.

"Good morning, dearie." She extended a little bunch of violets to Gabriella and spoke to Troy. "A pretty girl, she. You should make her your trouble and strife."

Gabriella tucked the tiny bunch of violets beside her ear and fumbled at the little purse tied to her waist, intending to pay the wizened little woman.

Troy stopped Gabriella with a light touch on her arm and gave the flower seller some coins from his own pocket. "I want a perfect rose," he told her. "Pink."

"Certainly, Mr Bolton." Grinning to reveal a row of broken brown teeth, the flower seller handed him a lovely, blooming pink rose, its petals still sparkling with morning dew.

Woodenly, Gabriella accepted the rose from Troy and lifted it to her nose. The rich, powdery fragrance filled her nostrils. "It's lovely," she said stiffly. "Thank you."

As they walked away from the flower cart, Gabriella picked her way carefully across a patch of broken pavement. She felt Troy's steadying hand on her upper arm, and it took all her will to keep from shaking him off.

"What does trouble and strife means?" she asked, wondering if she should haven taken offence.

Troy smiled slightly. "It's the Cockney term for 'wife'."

"Oh." Uncomfortably she focused on the ground before them as they walked. "The Cockney way of speaking is quite fascinating, isn't it?" she babbled, trying to fill the silence. "Almost like a foreign language, really. I must confess, I don't understand half the things I hear at the market."

"That," came his dry rejoinder, "is probably a good thing.

* * *

><p>When they returned to the kitchen, Martha was waiting, a sheepish smile on her face. "Thank you, Gabriella. I am sorry I couldn't go to the market."<p>

"That's perfectly alright," Gabriella said evenly. "You must take care of your knee so that it will heal properly."

Martha's eyes widened when she saw that Troy had accompanied Gabriella. "Oh, sir... how very kind of you! I am very sorry to make so much trouble!"

"No trouble at all," he said.

Martha's eyes locked onto the pink rose in Gabriella's hand with keen attention. Although she forbore to comment, the speculation in her eyes was obvious. Carefully Martha lifted a few objects from the market basket and hobbled toward the dry larder. Her voice floated behind her. "Did they have all the ingredients for the cake, Gabriella?"

"Yes," Gabriella replied as the Martha disappeared into the larder. "But we could find no red currants and - "

Suddenly her words were smothered into silence as Troy pulled her into his arms. His lips descended to hers in a kiss so tender and carnal that she could not help responding. Stunned, she struggled to retain her hatred of him, to remember the wrongs of the past, but his lips were utterly warm and compelling, and her thoughts scattered crazily. The pink rose dropped from her nerveless fingers. Gabriella swayed against him, groping for his hard shoulders in a futile bid for balance. His tongue searched his mouth... delicious... sweetly intimate. Gabriella inhaled sharply and tilted her head back in utter surrender, her entire existence distilled to this one burning moment.

Through the pounding heartbeat in her own ears she dimly heard Martha's concerned voice echoing from the larder. "No red currents? But what will we top the cake with?"

Troy released Gabriella's mouth, leaving her lips moist and kiss-softened. His face remained close to hers and Gabriella felt as if she were drowning in the sapphire pools of his eyes. His hand came to the side of her face, his fingers curving over her cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. Somehow Gabriella managed to answer Martha. "We f-found golden currants instead - "

As soon as the words left her mouth, Troy kissed her again, his tongue exploring, teasing. Her groping fingers touched the back of his neck, where the thick black hair curled against his nape. Sensation rustled through her, spurring her pulse to an intemperate pace. Taking advantage of her surrender, he kissed her more aggressively, hunting for the deepest, sweetest taste of her. As her knees weakened, his arms wrapped securely around her, supporting her body as he continued to ravish her mouth.

"Golden currants?" came Martha's dissatisfied voice. "Well, the flavour won't be quite the same, but they will be better than nothing."

Troy released Gabriella amd steadied her with his hands at her waist. While she stared at him blankly, he gave her a brief smile and left the kitchen just as Martha reemerged from the larder.

"Gabriella, where is the sack of caster sugar? I thought I had carried it into the larder, but..." Martha paused and glanced around the kitchen. "Where is Mr Bolton?"

"He..." Gabriella bent to retrieve the fallen rose. "He left."

Her pulse throbbed in all the vulnerable places of her body. She felt feverish, hungering for the kisses and caresses of a man she hated. She was a hypocrite, a wanton.

A fool.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: So what do you guys think? And also, I need to ask you guys a question. I'm thinking of doing monthly updates like this with long chapters, but you guys may not like the long wait, so would you prefer shorter chapters uploaded every two weeks? Or an even shorter one for a chapter a week? <strong>Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ and if you can spare the time, please follow my account iheartconfessionss ! Thanks for reading once again!<strong>**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Okay guys, I've decided that I will update on the 2nd of every month, starting from next month onward. Exams are comin gout soon, so I'll try to write as much as possible now so that you'll have your chapters during exam preparation. This chapter is slightly short, because I've got plans for the next chapter. For those who feel that the story is moving rather slowly, I'm happy to tell you that the next few chapters would be the rising action for Troyella, yay! That's why I gotta end this chapter here lol. Right, let's get to the story!**

* * *

><p>"Gabriella," Jason said, bringing a paper-wrapped package to the kitchen, "a man brought this for you not ten minutes back."<p>

Gabriella, who was sitting at the table for a midmorning cup of tea, received the large package with an exclamation of surprise. She had not made any purchases, nor had she ordered anything for the household. "I wonder what it could be," she murmured aloud, studying the package.

Her name and the Bow Street address were written on the brown-paper surface, but there was no indication as to the sender.

"Was there a note attached?" Gabriella asked Jason. She picked up a knife and sawed at the rough twine that had been knotted around the parcel.

He shook his head. "Perhaps there is one inside. I have to go now, Mr Bolton sent me to print some notes for him."

Gabriella smiled as she bade him farewell. Returning her attention to the mysterious package, she expertly severed the rest of the twine and unwrapped the parcel. Layers of thin white tissue enveloped something soft and rustling. Curious, Gabriella folded them back.

Her breath caught in her throat as she beheld a gown - not a plain, serviceable one like the others she owned, but made of silk and lace. It was suitable for a ball. But why would someone send such a garment to her? Her hands shook with a sudden tremor as she clawed past the gown for a note. The sender had either forgotten to include one or deliberately had not done so. She shook the gown out and stared at it in confusion, something that reached into the farthest corners of her memory...

Why, it reminded her of a gown of her mother's! As a little girl, Gabriella had loved to try on her mother's dresses and shoes and jewelry, and had played princess for hours. Her favourite dress had been made of an unusual colour, a gleaming silk that looked lavender in some lights, shimmering silver in others. This gown was the same rare shade, with the same low, scooped necklace and puffed sleeves trimmed with delicate white lace. However, this was not her mother's gown; it was a copy, made over in a modern style with a slightly lower waist and fuller skirts.

Profoundly troubled, Gabriella folded the garment in the brown paper and rewrapped it. Who could have sent such a gift to her, and why, and was it merely a coincidence that the dress resembled her mother's?

Instinctively she left the kitchen and took the parcel with her, heading for the one person she trusted most. Later, she would come to wonder why she had turned to Troy without even thinking, when she had relied only on herself for so many years. It was a sign of some significant change in her, one that made her too uncomfortable to dwell on for long.

* * *

><p>Troy's door was closed, and the sound of voices indicated that he was in the midst of a meeting. Crestfallen, Gabriella hesitated outside the door.<p>

Just then Martha happened to walk by. "Good morning, Gabriella," the helper cheerfully said. "Do you need something?"

"I-I wished to speak to Troy on a personal matter." Gabriella clutched the package tightly to her chest. "But I see that he is occupied, and I certainly do not wish to disturb him."

Martha frowned and gave her a reflective glance. "Gabriella, Mr Bolton has made it clear that if you ever have any concerns, he wishes to know immediately."

"It can wait," she said firmly. "It is a trivial matter. I will return later when Mr Bolton is available. No, no, Martha, please do not knock on that door." She groaned with distress as the help ignored her protests and rapped decisively at the door.

To Gabriella's consternation, the door opened to reveal Troy accompanying a visitor to the door. The grey-haired gentleman was small of stature but imposing nonetheless, dressed in a suit with a white tie. His sharp dark eyes focused on Gabriella, and he turned to smile wryly at Troy.

"Now I see, Bolton, why you are so eager to conclude our meeting. The company of this fetching creature is doubtless preferable to mine."

Troy's mouth quirked, and he did not deny the statement. "Good day, Mr Steele. I will examine the draft of your bill most carefully. However, do not expect that my views will change."

"I want your support, Bolton," the gentleman said in a soft, meaningful tone. "And if I receive it, you will find me a most useful friend."

"Of that I have no doubt."

Both men shook hands, and Mr Steele departed, the soles of his leather shoes making an expensive tapping sound on the worn wood floor.

Troy's eyes gleamed as he stared at Gabriella. "Come," he said softly, and guided her into his office. The pressure of his hand on her back was warm and light. Gabriella sat in the chair he indicated, her spine straight, while he resumed his place behind the huge mahogany desk.

"Steele." She repeated the name of the gentleman who had just left. "Surely that is not the CEO of Steele Cooperations?"

"None other."

"Oh, no," Gabriella said, thoroughly flustered. "I hope I did not interrupt your meeting. Oh, I will cheerfully murder Martha!"

Troy responded with a deep chuckle. "You didn't interrupt anything. I was ready for him to leave a half an hour ago, thus your appearance was quite timely. Now, tell me why you are here. I suspect it has something to do with that parcel in your lap."

"First let me apologise for bothering you. I - "

"Gabriella." He stared at her steadily. "I am always available to you. _Always_."

She could not seem to take her gaze away from his. The air around them felt alive and sultry, like the stillness before a midsummer storm. Clumsily she leaned forward and placed the parcel on his desk. "I received this from Ernest just a little while ago. He said that a man delivered it and left no word as to the sender."

Troy surveyed the address on the front of the package. As he pushed the brown paper aside, the lavender gown glimmered and rustled in the Spartan surroundings of the office. Troy's face remained impassive, but one dark brow arched as he examined the beautiful garment.

"I don't know who could have sent it," Gabriella said anxiously. "And there is something peculiar about it." She explained the resemblance between the lavender silver gown and the one that had belonged to her mother.

When Gabriella finished speaking, Troy, who had listened intently, leaned back into his chair and considered her in a meditative way that she didn't quite like. "Miss Montez... is it possible that the gown is a gift from your former lover?"

The thought gave Gabriella a start of surprise as well as a flash of bitter amusement. "Oh, no. He has no idea that I am working here. Besides, there is no reason for him to send me a gift."

Troy made a noncommittal sound and picked up a handful of the shining lavender fabric. The sight of his long fingers rubbing the delicate silk caused a peculiar flutter inside her. His lashes lowered as he examined the gown; the stitching, the seams, the lace.

"It is a costly garment," he said. "Well made, and of high-quality goods. But there is no dressmaker's label insides, which is unusual. I venture to guess that whoever sent the gown did not want it traced back to the modiste, who might reveal his - or her - identity."

"Then there is no way to find out who sent it?"

He looked up from the gown. "I am going to have one of the runners talk to Jason about the messenger, as well as investigate the dressmakers who are most likely to have made this gown. The fabric is unusual - that will help narrow the list.

"Thank you." Her hesitant smile vanished at his next question.

"Gabriella, have you recently encountered any men who might have taken an interest in you? Anyone you shared a flirtation with, or spoke to at market, or -"

"No!" Gabriella was not certain why the question agitated her so, but she felt her cheeks flood with heat. "I assure you, Mr Bolton, I would not encourage any gentlemen that way... that is -" She broke off in confusion as she realised that she _had_ encouraged a particular man that way - Troy Bolton himself.

"It's all right, Gabriella," he said quietly. "I would not blame you if you had. You are free to do as you wish."

Rattled, she spoke without thinking. "Well, I do not have a follower, and I have not behaved in a manner that might attract one. My last experience was certainly nothing I wish to repeat."

His gaze took on a wolf like alertness. "Because of the way he left you? Or is it that you found no pleasure in his arms?"

Gabriella was startled that he would ask such an intimate questions, and her face flushed. "I don't see that it has any bearing on the question of who sent this gown."

"It does not," he admitted. "But I am curious."

"Well, you will have to remain curious!" She struggled to restore her splintered composure. "May I leave now, sir? I have much to do, especially with Taylor being injured. Martha has worked her fingers to her bone."

"Yes," he said brusquely. "I will have someone to investigate the matter of this gown, and keep you informed of the developments."

"Thank you." Gabriella stood and went to the door, while he followed close at her heels. He reached for the door, but paused as Gabriella spoke without looking at him. "I... I found no pleasure in his arms." She concentrated on the heavy oak paneling of the door. "But that was probably my fault more than his."

Gabriella felt the hot touch of his breath against her hair, his lips hovering close to the top of her head. His nearness filled her with an ache of longing. Blindly, she seized the doorknob and let herself out of the office, refusing to glance back at him.

Troy closed the door and went back to his desk, bracing his hands on the cluttered surface. He let out a tense sigh. The desire that he had kept under iron control for so long had raged in a tremendous inferno. All the force of his will, his physical needs, his obsessive nature, were now focused in one direction. Gabriella. He could barely stand to be in the same room as her without touching her.

The lavender ballgown glimmered richly on the desk. Troy imagined how Gabriella would look in it... the colour would suit her eyes and dark-coloured hair beautifully. Who had sent it to her? He was suffused with a jealousy and violent possessiveness that astonished him. He wanted the exclusive rights to provide whatever she required, whatever would delight her.

Troy sighed heavily, trying to understand the mixture of joy and strong unwillingness that seethed inside him. He had vowed never to fall in love again. He had not forgotten how terrible it was to care so deeply for someone, to fear for her safety, to want her happiness more than his own. Somehow he would have to find a way to stop it from happening, to satisfy his boundless need for Gabriella and yet keep from entrusting his heart to her.

* * *

><p><strong>Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ and if you can spare the time, please follow my account iheartconfessionss ! Thanks for reading once again!<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: First of all, sorry for the late update! My laptop crashed and all my data & information were gone as well! I completed this chapter ages ago, but I swear right when I finished typing, my laptop crashed and it's still at the repair shop. I typed out this chapter again, and I swear if it crashes again I will just kill myself. This is the best I can come up with at the moment without making you guys wait any longer. I am using my friend's laptop right now. I was halfway through the next chapter but everything is gone and ugh this sucks. Until I get my laptop and all my data back, I don't think I'll be updating on 2nd October but I'll do my best. Meanwhile, enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Early in the evening, when Gabriella was certain that Troy was away on an investigation, she helped Martha to turn the mattress on his bed and change the lining.<p>

"Gabriella," Martha started, her cheeks bunching with an apologetic smile. "It's like this, you see. I can't stop my hands from bleeding since I scrubbed the coppers this afternoon."

"Your hands? Let me see them." Gabriella inhaled sharply as she saw Martha's hands, scabbed and bleeding. "My, go get some gloves and soak your hands in some glycerin and oil."

"What about Mr Bolton's mattress?"

"Never you mind about that. I'll take care of it by myself."

"But it's hard to turn without help -"

"You sit and soak your hands," Gabriella said, trying to sound stern. "Take care of them, or they'll be of no use to anyone tomorrow."

Martha smiled at her gratefully. "Gabriella, I... thank you so much. You're a love. A real love."

Gabriella waved the words away and hurried to clean Troy's bedroom before he returned. She stripped the linens from the huge bed and worked to turn the heavy mattress by herself, huffing and puffing. Finally, she managed to settle it into place and started smoothing the sheets and fluffing the pillows.

Gabriella then turned her attention to the pile of clothes on the chair. She draped the black silk tie over one arm and picked up the discarded white linen shirt.

A pleasant, faintly earthly scent floated to her nostrils, the smell of Troy permeating the thin fabric. Curious, Gabriella held the shirt up to her face, breathing in the fragrance of sweat and shaving soap along with the essence of a virile, healthy male. She had never found a man's scent so alluring. Despite her supposed love for Zeke, she had never really noticed such details about him. She had wanted a fairytale prince to sweep her off her feet, and Zeke had obligingly played the role until it no longer suited him.

_The door opened._

Startled, Gabriella dropped the shirt and blanched guiltily. She was appalled to see Troy enter the room, clad in a striking navy blue suit and slacks. Humiliation flooded her. Oh, that he should have caught her sniffing and fondling his shirt!

But Troy's usual alertness seemed to have deserted him. In fact, his gaze was slightly unfocused, and Gabriella realised that he hadn't noticed what she was doing. Confounded, she wondered if he had been drinking. That was not like him at all, but it was the only possible reason for the unsteadiness of his gaze.

"You are back early from your investigation in Long Acre," she said. "I-I was just straightening your room."

He shook his head as if to clear it and approached her.

Gabriella backed up against the dresser, staring at him in growing concern. "Are you ill, sir?"

Troy reached her and clutched the dresser on either side of her. His face was bone-white, throwing his long lashes into startling relief. "We found the man we sought, hiding in a house," he said. A thick forelock fell over his pale, sweating forehead. "He climbed onto the roof... and jumped to the next house before Chad could catch him. I joined in the chase... couldn't let him get away."

"You were chasing a man on the rooftops?" Gabriella was horrified. "Bit that is dangerous! You could have been hurt."

"Actually..." Troy looked sheepish, his balance wavering. "When I reached him, he pulled a pistol from his coat."

"You were shot at?" Gabriella scanned his body frantically. "Did he hit you? Dear God -" She ran her hands down the front of his finely-tailored suit and found that the left side was cool and slippery. A stifled cry burst from her lips and her palm came away smeared with blood.

"It's just a scratch."

"Did you tell anyone?" Gabriella demanded, frantically pulling him towards the bed. "Have you sent for a doctor?"

"I can tend it myself," he said testily. "A mere scratch, as I said -" He grunted when Gabriella tugged the coat from his shoulders and down his arms.

"Lie down!" She was horrified by the amount of blood that had stained his shirt, leaving his entire left side soaked in a scarlet. Unbuttoning the garment, she lifted the fabric from his shoulder and gasped at the sight of an oozing bullet wound. "It is not a scratch, it is a *hole*. Don't you dare move. Why in God's name didn't you tell someone?"

"It is only a minor injury," he said grumpily.

Gabriella snatched the shirt from the previous day and pressed it firmly against the welling blood. Troy's breath hissed between his clenched teeth.

"You obstinate man," Gabriella said, stroking back the lock of hair that had adhered to his damp forehead. "You are not invulnerable, despite what you and everyone else at Bow Street seem to think! Hold this in place while I send for a doctor."

"Get Jacob Linley," he muttered. "Tell Jason to find him."

Gabriella dashed outside the room, shouting for help. The servants appeared in less than a minute, all of them appearing thunderstruck by the information that Troy has been wounded.

Jason scampered to locate the doctor, Taylor went in search of clean rags and linens, and Martha ran next door to get Chad.

Gabriella returned to Troy, her heart pounding in fear when she saw him lying so still on the bed. Gently she took his hand away from the wad of bloodstained cloth and applied more pressure to the wound. He made a roughly sound, his eyes slitting open.

"It's been years since the last time I was shot," he muttered. "Forgot how damn much it hurts."

Gabriella was overwhelmed with worry. "I hope it hurts," she said vehemently. "Perhaps that will teach you not to be running about on rooftops! What possessed you to do such a thing?"

Troy gave her a narrow-eyed glance. "For some reason the suspect didn't want to come down to the ground so that I could catch him easily."

"It was my impression that the _runners_ are supposed to give chase," she replied tartly. "Whereas _you_ are supposed to stay safe and tell them what to do."

"It doesn't always work that way."

Gabriella bit back another sharp reply and leaned over to unfasten his cuffs. "I'm going to remove your shirt. Do you think you can manage to pull your arm from the sleeve, or shall I fetch the scissors?"

Troy extended his arm in answer, and Gabriella drew carefully on the cuff. She tugged the shirt away from his good side, revealing his torso. He was muscular, as she had expected, his shoulders and chest well developed. Gabriella had never seen such an imposing masculine body. She felt her cheeks prickling with a flush as she leaned over him. Gently she slid her arm behind his neck. "I'll lift you up enough to pull the shirt away from your back."

"I can do it myself." His pain-hazed ocean eyes stared into hers, while his neck tightened against her arm.

"Let me do the work," she insisted, "or you will make the bleeding worse."

Slowly, she lifted the weight of his head and tugged the shirt from under him. Troy's breath puffed against her chin. "When I pictured being in bed with you," he muttered, "this was not how I envisioned it."

A surprised laugh caught in her throat. "I will overlook that remark, as you are no doubt delirious from loss of blood."

Gabriella was grateful for the appearance of Taylor, who came bearing a bowl of hot water and a pile of clean, folded cloths. Troy grumbled but did not move as the two women washed the bloodstains from his chest and throat.

Gabriella leaned over Troy and adjusted the pillow behind his head. The bullet could have easily pierced his heart, had the suspect's aim been any better. She was amazed by her reaction to the thought, the mixture of fear and anguish that engulfed her.

"I am fine," Troy said gruffly, somehow reading her unspoken thoughts. "I will be up and about in a day or two."

"Oh, no, you will not," she replied. "You will stay in this bed until you are completely well again - no matter what I must do to keep you here."

Gabriella was not aware that any sexual connection could be attached to her promise until she saw the sudden glint of mockery in Troy's eyes. She glared at him in silent warning, and he kept obligingly quiet, though his lips twisted in amusement. Nearby, Taylor developed a sudden interest in folding all the clean rags and cloths into tidy squares.

The tension in the room was broken by the welcome appearance of the doctor, Jacob Linley. He was lean and handsome, with gleaming blond hair and a ready smile. Gabriella had heard of him before, since he was often summoned to Bow Street when medical attentions or options were required. However, this was the first time she had actually seen Dr. Linley.

"Bolton," he said easily, hefting a weighty brown leather bag and setting it on the bedside chair. "It seems that you had a bit of an adventure this evening." He went immediately to see Troy, his attention focused on the wound. "Hmm. A bullet shot. How did it happen?"

Troy frowned slightly. "I joined in the pursuit of a murder suspect."

"He chased him across a rooftop," Gabriella added, unable to hold her silence.

Jacob turned towards her. His hazel eyes contained a friendly twinkle. "A rooftop, you say? Well, I think that Troy had better stay on the ground from now on, don't you?"

Gabriella responded with a vigorous nod.

"I presume you are Miss Montez, the assistant I have heard so much of? I admit that I thought the runners' rapturous descriptions of you were exaggerated. Now I see that they were in fact understating the case."

Before Gabriella could reply, Troy's sour voice came from the bed. "Are you going to prattle all evening, Linley, or are you going to remove this bullet?"

Jacob winked at Gabriella and then turned businesslike. "I'll need a large bowl of scalding-hot water, some good, strong soap, a pot of honey, and a glass of brandy. And I will require more light in here."

Gabriella hurried to fetch the required items, and Taylor brought lanterns and candles.

By the time Gabriella returned from the kitchen, the room was ablaze, as if it were in the afternoon. She arranged the hot water, soap, honey and brandy neatly on the table. Going to the bedside, she saw the doctor carefully wiping a few silver instruments with a felt cloth.

Jacob smiled at her obvious interest. "A wound is not as likely to turn putrid if it is kept clean, although no one can explain why this is so. Therefore, I keep my instruments and my hands as immaculate as possible."

"What is the honey for?"

"It makes an excellent wound dressing and seems to promote healing. It also keeps the tissue from sticking to the cloth when the dressing is changed."

"And the brandy?"

"I asked for that because I'm thirsty," Jacob replied cheerfully, and took an appreciative swallow of the vintage. "Now Miss Montez, after I wash my hands, I am going to probe for the bullet - an unpleasant procedure which will make Troy swear like a sailor. Would you like to wait in another room?"

"I do not," Gabriella said at once. "I wish to stay."

"Very well." Jacob picked up a long, slender probe and sat at the bedside. "Try to hold still," he warned Troy quietly. "If it becomes too uncomfortable, I can send for Chad to help hold you down -"

"I won't move," Troy assured him testily.

At the doctor's bidding, Gabriella held a lamp over his shoulder. She kept her gaze on Troy's taut face rather than on Jacob's diligent handiwork. The only sign of the pain he must have felt was an occasional twitch of a muscle in his cheek, or a slight catch of his breath as the probe dug further. Finally the implement clicked against the bullet, which had lodged against a bone.

"There it is," Jacob said calmly, a mist of perspiration causing his face to gleam. "It's a pity you have such strong constitution, Bolton. You'd done better to faint before I extract this thing."

"I never faint," Troy muttered. His gaze hunted for Gabriella's face, and she smiled reassuringly into his pain-darkened eyes.

"Miss Montez," Jacob murmured, "hold this probe exactly as it is positioned, and do not alter the angle."

"Yes, sir." She complied instantly, and he reached for a delicate two-pronged instrument that looked like a pair of pincers.

"Steady hands," he remarked admiringly, resuming possession of the probe. Deftly he began to extract the bullet. "And a pretty countenance to boot. If you ever tire of working at Bow Street, Miss Montez, I am going to hire you as _my_ assistant."

Before Gabriella could reply, Troy interceded. "No," he growled. "She's mine." And with that, he promptly fainted, the inky sweep of his lashes fanning his pale cheeks.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Hopefully I can get the next chapter up soon, or I'll have to re-do the next chapter all over again fml -.- Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ and if you can spare the time, please follow my account iheartconfessionss ! Thanks for reading once again!<strong>**


End file.
